


an air of mixed feelings (beneath fallen ceilings)

by vivaavoce



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Allura and Lance are Cousins, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression & References to Depression, F/M, First of Two Parts, Five Stages of Grief, Human!Allura, Hunk/Pidge Centric, Hurt/Comfort, Irish Pidge, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Korean Keith (Voltron), Light/Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Miscarriage, Polynesian Hunk (Voltron), Team as Family, cuban allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivaavoce/pseuds/vivaavoce
Summary: Afterwards, they stand outside the tiny bar on the corner and share a cigarette, blowing smoke into the painted night and swapping stories. She’s a little tipsy and secrets drip from loose lips that have never touched the light of day outside of the four walls of the apartment. But so is he, and their fingers brush when he passes the cigarette back.She brings it to her lips and breathes in before exhaling, watching the smoke curl towards the heavens, and sighs.Beside her, Tsuyoshi - Hunk, she reminds herself - accidentally brushes his fingers against her arm and finds the ink that lays beneath her skin.It’s her only tattoo.“What’s this?”“It’s Gaelic.”“For what?”She tilts her head back and closes her eyes, relishing in the warmth from his soft hands when he takes the cigarette from her fingertips.“New beginnings.”





	1. coal

**Author's Note:**

> if you concentrate hard enough, you can hear my betas crying tears of joy in the distance because this monster has finally been defeated. this has been three months in the making, from nanowrimo until now and both hannah and joelle are begging to be released from this hell i've created. fic + chapter titles from reprieve by vallis alps.
> 
> happy birthday hunk!
> 
> tw: panic attacks, minor/mentioned character death

When she first sees him, she’s straddling her motorcycle on a street corner, laughing boisterously at something Keith has said as Takashi shakes his head. She’s just thrown her head back, cigarette dangling from her fingertips when she sees him, and her entire world  _ stops. _

He’s tall and muscular, dark skin and light eyes, and he walks with the air of someone who feels like he belongs when he obviously doesn’t, but it’s not a conceited thing, and she finds herself immediately drawn to this nameless stranger on the opposite street corner. Her heart pounds in her ears as the light for pedestrians turns green and his foot hits the concrete of the street, and she whips her gaze away.

“Katie?”

She jerks her head back to thefair-skinned man in front of her, staring back with a quizzical look in his grey eyes, and she just shrugs, hoping the blush that starts at her toes doesn’t make it to her cheeks. A quick glance at her best friend’s older brother (and his growing smirk) though confirms that her wish was  _ not _ granted, and she’s in for the interrogation of her life.

A car honks behind her and her head whips involuntarily towards the street, where she  _ almost _ giggles, because there  _ he _ is, shaking his head as he drags another man—this one with lighter skin but still no less rich and deep eyes—behind him as the man yells something at the car. She’s just bringing her cigarette to her mouth when someone behind her chokes and she turns to see Keith staring at the second man and Takashi’s smirk grows.

They’re both screwed now.

 

 

The second time she sees the mysterious man with the light eyes, she’s breaking the fifteen pool balls. She’s smirking at Takashi as she bumps fists with Keith, trading places with him. Calling out her balls as the striped ones, she hears laughter float across the sweat and smoke heavy atmosphere of the bar, and she looks sideways and sees him.

This time he’s in a muted yellow button-up underneath a faded cargo vest, and his hair swept back into a bun that escapes in wisps that frames his face, and she coughs as her whiskey enters her lungs instead of her stomach. Without his jacket from the first time she saw him, she can clearly see his muscles through his tight shirt and she watches him with poorly-veiled attraction. He laughs at something his companion says—the same man from before that yelled at the driver in the middle of the street—before bringing a glass of amber to his lips and taking a sip.

She feels like a supernova, about to explode before falling to pieces back to Earth.

“Katie, it’s your go.” When she turns back to her two companions, Keith’s smirking, and she sneers playfully back as she moves into position, a plan forming in the back of her mind. She hits her ball into his, sinking his ball into her pocket, giving her the advantage, and his face drops into a frown.

She’s moving past him to chalk the tip of her pool stick, watching him line up, and he’s pulling back to hit her ball into his pocket when she shrugs her shoulders and tosses back a shot. “So, the man from the street corner is here.”

Keith’s shot goes wide as his head whips around, and she cackles as the ball misses hers so completely it bumps into one of his own, and any formal conversation goes downhill from there as Takashi drops his head into his hands and Keith’s face turns the same color as his flannel.

 

 

 

The third time she sees the man (and coincidentally the first time they meet) is three days later. She’s on the street corner again, blowing smoke into the inky sky and it’s a colder night. She closes her eyes, letting it soak into her forest-green leather jacket as she lounges peacefully but it doesn’t last long.

“Hey! Leather lady, it says no loitering!”

The air around her, once quiet, is crashed as a loud voice is in her ear, and she opens her eyes to the most annoying face she’s ever seen. The man in front of her is one she faintly recognizes as the same one who caused the scene in the middle of the street, and it occurs to her only  _ seconds _ later that it means  _ he’s _ also here, but her dumb mouth is already running by then.

“Congratulations, stupid, you can read.”

The man  _ gasps _ as if she’s just spat on his mother, bringing a hand to his chest and jutting his chin out and she rolls her eyes. He’s obviously drunk, and he’s one of those drunks that’s loud and doesn’t know when enough is enough, exactly like Keith. She scoffs.  _ Those two are obviously meant for each other. _

“Hunk, my man! Did you hear that? She called me  _ stupid! _ ”

She’s just about to drive off when she turns her head at the sigh to her right, and almost falls right off her motorcycle. If not for her kickstand, she knows she would have taken her bike down along with her but it doesn’t matter because it’s  _ him. _

For there he is, the mystery man she’s seen around town for two weeks, but has never had the courage to walk up to—her, Katie Holt, local daredevil and adrenaline junkie—and introduce herself and  _ maybe _ even ask the poor boy out.

Her breath leaves her all at once.

“Whatever she said, Lance, you probably deserved it.”

For how beautiful he is at a distance, he’s even more  _ breathtaking _ up close, and she swears her heart skips a few beats when his amber-yellow eyes lock onto hers. If she hadn’t been sitting on her motorcycle, she knows she would have fallen straight off.  _ Again _ . His eyelashes are long and dark, and this close, she can see the laughter lines around his mouth and eyes.

“ _ Hunnnnk! _ You’re supposed to be,” the man (Lance?) hiccups, leaning up against the light pole, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes again as he continues to whine in a high voice that makes her want to scream because  _ how is it even possible for a man’s voice to go that high _ , “on my side! It’s the bro-code!”

The man just shakes his head at his friend before turning to her. “Whatever he said, I’m sorry, he’s drunk himself into a stupor over a girl and he got away from me.”

Oh, now is the part where she has to actually  _ talk _ to him. Good to know.

_ Don’t mess this up, Katie. _

“Is his ‘girl trouble’”, she makes air quotes around the words with her fingers, “the fact he can’t get anyone to date him?” There’s a beat of silence as Lance’s alcohol-muddled mind processes what she’s just said, but his indignant whine is swallowed by the response from his friend. She freezes, because she’s messed up  _ big time _ , and the guilt rolls in within seconds of it leaving her idiot mouth.

“So, you’re one of  _ those _ people.”

She wishes she had an undo button, or a cork, or a reset dial, or  _ anything _ because the look on Hunk’s face is enough. It’s enough to freeze her veins and regret every word that dripped like poison from her lips, and she doesn’t regret much. Katie and her moron mouth won’t stop though and she arches her eyebrow, confused and slightly irritated—at herself—because this is  _ not _ how she imagined them meeting. “Excuse me?”

He’s crouching next to Lance, rubbing his back as the man gags and heaves but nothing comes up, and when he’d done, he slings an arm over his broad shoulder. “The kind that judges people by their appearance while knowing nothing about them.”

It’s not the anger in his voice but the  _ disappointment _ that rattles her to the bone, and her eyes itch, but when it finally matters, her mouth won’t move. She wants to reach out, grab his arm, look into his light eyes and tell him everything, but she’s frozen, and when she finally wants her words to help, they don’t.

_ I’m sorry,  _ she will say _ , I’m not that kind of person! I saw you on the corner of the street that day and I fell in love with you. I’ve never this way about anyone in my entire life, and I finally understand what my mother meant all those years ago when I left home and didn’t return. _

_ I forgive you,  _ he will respond, and he’ll smile.  _ And I love you too, ever since that street corner, where you laughed loud and breathed smoke into the air in ringlets that framed your face. I’ve loved you since you beat your friend at pool that night in the bar and smirked as he took a shot and you followed, not because you lost but because you enjoy the burning of whiskey down your throat. _

But he doesn’t forgive her, doesn’t look into her eyes and smile reassuringly, rather picks his friend up off the ground, sends her one more disappointed look that cuts deep enough into the walls around her heart to hurt, and she can’t  _ breathe _ . But this time, instead of it being from his  _ looks _ , it from his  _ look,  _ and maybe it aches a little more, knowing now she’ll never have a chance.

So she blinks once, twice, and twists the gear to her right, revving the engine, ignoring the huff of the man in front of her as he walks away with his friend’s arm slung over his own. Her tires squeal on the pavement, and it’s only after she comes to a halt a block later at a stoplight that she realizes she never put her helmet on.

She flips down the visor, lifting her foot when the light blinks green, and the only sign she was there when the two men inevitably cross the same street is a tire streak on the pavement.

 

 

When she finally pulls into their garage beneath the three-floored shop, she’s  _ exhausted _ .

Motor & Cycle is squashed between a cafe and a vintage antiques shop, and was once owned by Takashi’s birth and Keith’s adopted parents. After the car accident that left their parents six feet under, the rights moved to him and Takashi moved back to the United States on extended leave from the military.

His little brother had known that despite being brought back from his tour in New Mexico, Takashi was still a soldier. But he never would have guessed that the least risky mission of them all, a simple storming of a warehouse by the dock a few cities away would rip his brother from him.

There were numerous questions from both families whose loved ones had gone on that mission and never came home, but the government refused to say anything on it and only a year later did Takashi show back up. Then Katie showed up and the two took her in with no thought to her last name.

When she kicks her stand down and slides off her motorcycle, Mrs. Ryner is there and the older woman waves excitedly at the girl from her shop’s window. Despite being tired enough to sleep for three days she trots over and says hello, scratching her cat’s chin and smiling at the old woman’s questions about the week.

_ How are you doing? Are you eating enough? How’s Takashi? _

She’s half-heartedly giggling at the widow’s hopeless infatuation with her best friend when she happens to look down at her watch, and she gasps. “Mrs. Ryner, I’m sorry, I have to go…”

The older woman just smiles at her and waves her back towards the door. “Go then! You youngsters are always so busy.”

Sending the widow one last smile, she bangs the door of the shop open and yells a hello at Takashi, who nods at her as he fiddles with a motorcycle in front of him. She’s about to disappear through the back door where she’ll climb the stairs to the second floor when her gaze snags on the bike he’s actually working on, and her breath catches.

Faded brown leather and black chrome dazzles underneath Takashi’s flashlight he holds in his mouth as he rummages around and tightens various parts, and she marvels at the work already done. She runs her fingers over the leather and marvels at how soft it is; this is a motorcycle well loved and taken care of. “Whose bike is this, ‘Kashi? The craftsmanship is  _ amazing. _ ”

The older man shrugs, taking the flashlight from between his teeth, and goes back to tightening the seat as he answers. “Someone named Tsuyoshi I think? He came in this afternoon. I didn’t see him but Sven was here.”

She hums, fingers tracing the lines cut into the leather, and she wonders what the pattern was once was, years ago. The spiralling of the safety bar and exhaust pipe lead her fingers until she reaches the end, and there, in the corner of the seat, is an engraving. Although she traces over it with the tips of her fingers, she can’t make out the letters; all she knows is that the word starts with a loopy  _ H. _

Despite her obvious fascination with the motorcycle, she still has work to do, and with a leaden heart she leaves the bike behind and climbs the creaky stairs to the apartment above. Her key slides into place with a heavy  _ click  _ and she turns the knob as she rams her shoulder into the door. It’s been stuck like this for as long as she can remember and Takashi keeps saying that he’s going to fix it, but it always slips his mind, so she continues into the living room with her shoulder throbbing slightly.

Without looking she throws the key into the chipped bowl on the side table near the door, and her beanie is discarded on top of the coat rack. She unlaces and slips off her boots and relishes in the feeling of the rug underneath her feet as she continues into the living room.

Keith’s stretched out on the couch like the actual cat he is, and his own kitten is perched on his head. His head is buried in his book and he’s actively ignoring the feline as she bats at the strands of hair that stand up on his scalp. The ginger Abyssinian, appropriately named Red, perks up at her entrance and hops off Keith’s head, leaving him with a shocked look as she patters over and rubs against Katie’s leg.

“Traitor.”

She’s smirking when she picks up the sleek feline and cuddles her close to her chest. Red purrs low and loud against her, radiating heat, and  _ this _ , she thinks, _ is what she needed _ . Not a man she met and lost on a street corner, but a  _ family _ . An older brother downstairs with grease smeared on his forehead as he tinkers with the same parts that make up his arm and an older brother with cat hair on his faded black shirt and a love of the stars.

 

 

 

W hen Takashi finally closes shop and climbs the squeaky stairs to the apartment upstairs, it’s past ten, and he opens the door to find his brother and his little sister out cold. Keith is stretched out on the couch, taking up the entire seat and Katie is on her stomach, cheek pressed into the carpet.

He giggles, nodding to the person outside the door, and a girl sneaks through the door, her hand in his, shoes dangling from the fingertips of her hand. She looks out on the scene and almost laughs at the sight, but she isn’t laughing for long. Her boyfriend is pulling her out of the living room into the connected kitchen and dining room, and she’s being pressed into the counter.

She groans into the kiss as he lifts her and she squeals quietly as she’s set on the countertop and he’s in-between her legs. Trying not to smile, the platinum-haired woman threads her fingers through his already-mussed hair as his tongue pries her mouth open and his hands trace circles into her back.

Takashi’s fingers are just brushing the strip of skin between her white sweater and baby-blue jeans when there’s a sleepy snort from the other room, and they both freeze in place. His fingertips still at her hips and her hands still mapping the skin of his abdomen, the two wait as there’s a rustling sound before it settles down. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, Allura giggles quietly as she hops down. Backing them towards the hallway that leads to his bedroom, she beckons him with a look and a single curled finger and he follows her swiftly with a kiss that leaves her head spinning.

The door clicks close behind them and out in the living room, Katie smiles to herself as she pulls a blanket off the corner of the couch. Draping it over Keith’s prone form, she grabs her beanie and escapes downstairs, being careful to only step on the right side of the fourth stair from the top.

Keith sleeps like a rock, she’s too high-strung to sleep, and Allura and Takashi deserve some alone time for once. Making up her mind, she flips on the lights and grabs her toolbag from the shelf before pulling up a stool, settling herself in for another late-night tuneup on a bike that’s already perfect.

It’s going to be a long night.

 

 

 

The first thing Keith registers is that his toes are cold, which is peculiar, because when he tries to wiggle them, he finds there’s no feeling in them. Groaning, he rubs at his eyes and when he finally finds enough motivation to open them, everything’s blurry for a minute. It takes a few seconds for his heavy eyelids to adjust but when they do he looks down and finds the source of his problem is two things.

For one, the blanket draped over him must have slid off his foot in the night, leaving his poor defenseless toes vulnerable to the cold hair outside his cocoon and two; Red is sleeping comfortably between his legs, draped over his calves, and he can’t feeling anything below that.

The second thing he registers is the low, giggly voices in the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma wafting from the same area that smells  _ suspiciously  _ like bacon and eggs and possibly pancakes, if his nose is to be trusted. Regardless, it’s enough to have him rolling cautiously off the cushions and replacing the blanket onto his sleeping cat before stumbling sleepily into the next room.

His shuffling of socked feet carries him into the kitchen and he’s still rubbing his eyes when there’s a  _ murmured groan  _ and he freezes in the doorway, but it’s too late to turn around, so he accepts his fate and turns the corner.

There, in the middle of the kitchen stands Takashi - dressed only in a thin shirt and his boxers despite the chilliness that seeps in at every corner - flipping pancakes like he’s in a magazine for Better Homes and Gardens. Alejandra rises to her tiptoes - the hem of his brother’s shirt rides up on her thighs, enough for him to see the bruises, and his head spins - and she smiles before pressing a kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to his lips.

He never heard her come in last night.

In the next few seconds, a multitude of things happen, and Keith is there to bear witness.

First, a single drop of water drips from between Allura’s fingertips as she skims the hem of the top of his brother’s shirt. Second, Takashi slides the spatula under the pancake in the pan, waiting for the perfect time to flip. Third, a wet trail appears on the back of his shirt at the same time he yelps and an innocent-looking ice cube drops to the ground.

_ “Allura!” _

Fourth, the pancake - perfectly round and the most satisfactory shade of golden brown signifying it being the ideal consistency and temperature - goes flying, and Keith follows it with his eyes as Takashi wiggles and paws at his back.

Fifth, the pancake - by some heavenly miracle (or perhaps sin) flies towards the ceiling and  _ sticks to it. _

There’s about three seconds of silence before uproarious laughter breaks it. Allura’s howling as Takashi reaches for her, tears in his eyes as he laughs uncontrollably, and Keith leans up against the doorframe for support as he chuckles at the scene before him.

Minutes later, Takashi’s performing a balancing act precariously on top of a stool as he stretches to reach the holy pancake. As he reaches for it his shirt rides up, revealing small finger-sized bruises rimmed with teeth marks and from her place opposite in the kitchen as she grabs blueberries out of the fridge, Alejandra  _ whistles. _

Takashi’s face goes bright red so fast he almost falls, wobbling on top of the already uneven stool and Keith retreats.

Piling a couple of pancakes on two plates before leaving the two lovebirds be, he returns to his spot on the couch, and that’s when he notices Katie’s gone.

A bad feeling in the back of his throat arises when he remembers her face when she walked in last night; the expression that broke his heart because the only other time he’s ever seen her that heartbroken was the first night when they met her.

He remembers resting his head against the window as they passed the bus station and shooting straight up when he saw her. He remembers how her shoulders seemed to fold in on her tiny frame as she kicked at her motorcycle and hid underneath the slanted roof of the enclosure to try and protect herself from the chilly rain, already soaked to the bone.

He remembers demanding Takashi to pull over and his older brother had barely managed to form a question and apply the brakes before Keith was jumping out, shoes soaked instantly and hair plastered in seconds from heavy sheets of rain. He remembers the blue tint to the girl’s lips and the shaking of her small hands as she refused to come with them, scared out of her mind by these two strangers.

Keith remembers the drive back home as he wrapped every piece of cloth they had in the truck around her frail shoulders as her frame shook with every cough. He remembers the look on her face as he tucked her into the guest bed and promised he would get her tea and a warm bath when she awoke again. He remembers combing her hair back out of her face and shutting the door behind him, informing his older brother in a low voice that this girl will be staying with them until she says otherwise because she  _ needed _ them.

And maybe, just maybe, _ they needed her too. _

He never tells Takashi the _real_ reason why he makes up his mind like that, why he starts pulling out their mother’s old clothes. He tells his brother it’s because she needs a place to stay until she gets on her feet, until she’s able to talk without coughing and walk without shivering, but he lies through his teeth.

That expression, the curve of her mouth and the look in her eyes when he promises her a home is the same look Keith has worn many times, and even all these years later, it makes his heart ache.

It’s the look of someone who’s never had a home.

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t so important and he leaves them on the floor, rather slipping on his boots. Braving the cold, he descends the stairs. He knows exactly where his little Pigeon is.  

 

 

 

Unsurprisingly, Katie is slumped over the seat of her motorcycle. Flashlight still shining as it dangles from her fingertips, the upturned toolbox on the floor tells him they all slept through her dropping it when she apparently dozed off.

The air is stale, meaning she must have broken open a new pack of cigarettes - a nasty habit she’s picked up but it’s only when she’s really anxious - during the night. Prying the butt from under her wrist, he sets aside the opened box and switches off the light before poking at her. She snorts and waves her hands at him, readjusting her cheek on the seat, and he chuckles. “Come on sleepyhead, get up.”

There’s a grunt but no movement, and he sighs, crouching down next to her ear. “I’ll make you a deal; sit up and I’ll give you a piggyback ride upstairs to bed, okay?”

A moment of silence later and she’s blowing air out her nose as she shifts into an upright position. Despite how crappy she feels, he can’t help but laugh because her hair’s sticking up on one side and the braids on the other are messy. He turns his back to her and waits for her to climb on. She wraps her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder, she mumbles into his neck to  _ shut up _ because  _ she’s not cute. _

Lifting Katie is like lifting a soaking wet chihuahua, and he easily stands up, chuckling when a small snore resonates in his ear because she’s already asleep. He adjusts her, grasping her ankles a little more firmly before walking out of the workshop and climbing the stairs.

He has to kick the door with the tip of his boot because he has no hands free, and Takashi answers the door. His hair is mussed and there’s pancake batter smeared on his cheek and he raises an eyebrow until he sees the mop of dirty blond hair on Keith’s shoulder. Smiling softly, his older brother moves aside as he enters, allowing the two to pass by in the small foyer. Keith bites back a curse as his hip hits the edge of the small table against the wall when Katie shifts in her sleep, throwing their combined weight off but he keeps going despite Takashi’s offer to take her.

Somehow, he manages to get Katie to her room with no more accidents. She snorts as he settles her head in the pile of pillows and pulls the thickest blanket over her form. Sleepily, she curls up like a cat and burrows further into the nest she’s made with her comforter and he tiptoes out.

Keith closes the door and turns around to find his older brother and his girlfriend right behind him. Sighing, he rubs his forehead as Takashi folds his arms. “Another hard night, I’m guessing? I could smell the smoke from up here when I opened the door.”

His younger brother nods, glancing back at the door, worry evident in his eyes. “She came in really late last night and spent an hour on her laptop before crashing on the floor. I don’t know what happened but it hit her  _ hard _ and sometime during the night she escaped into the garage and broke open a new pack before falling asleep on her bike.”

Takashi releases a breath before nodding, turning away and Alejandra pipes up. “When she wakes up I’ll ask her what’s going on,” but Keith just shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lura.”

“Why?”

The two brothers exchange looks, and Takashi is the one who responds. “Come sit down, love.”

 

 

 

Katie wakes up to a ray of light falling through a crack in her curtains and she groans, shifting in her little makeshift nest, trying to escape it before settling back in. Her neck aches and she sighs before turning on her back and staring up at her ceiling. 

_ Guess it’s time to get up. _

Rolling out of bed is one of the hardest things she’s done. She raises her arms above her head, stretching from one side to the other until her shoulder pops and she groans at the feeling. Keith hates when she pops her knuckles - or any part of her body for that matter - but she enjoys the sensation (and maybe making him grimace is part of the fun). 

She spares a glance in the mirror on the opposite wall for long enough to spot the tuft of hair that sticks straight out from her head, and she snorts. It seems like she’s left her braids in and the snort immediately turns to a huff as she tries to untangle the hairstyle. Minutes later her hair is free but it’s wavy compared to the other side of her hair which is stick-straight, so she shrugs and throws it up in a messy bun on top of her head.

It’s not like she’s going anywhere today.

That is until she looks at the clock on her nightstand -  _ how did I even miss it in the first place -  _ and yelps because it’s 9:13 AM on a Saturday morning and she has to be at the public library three blocks away at 9:30.

“Oh,  _ shit!” _

Throwing herself across the room to her closet, her fingers run over various tops until she hits something nice enough to not reveal she got dressed in a minute flat. Swiping her canvas bag and keys, the door clicks close behind her as she creeps through the apartment. Knowing everyone else is still asleep, she grabs her coat and tucks the bottom of her pants into boots.

The lock to the garage is already undone and she smiles as she buttons up her coat. Starting the tiny Prius and ramping up the heat, she rubs her hands together before shifting gears and opening the garage door.

Her talent at weaving through traffic pays off as she glances at the clock on the dashboard and dances internally. The clock reads 9:21 and there’s enough time for her to swing through the drive-through at the coffee shop around the corner. Three minutes later she’s jogging up the stairs to the Arus Public Library, keys and coffee cup in hand and signs her name on the sheet before pinning her name tag on at exactly 9:29 AM.

Just in time too, because she’s just pulled the last of the puppets from her bag when the first little one comes stumbling through the doors to the kid’s section of the library. She giggles when his eyes light up at the sight of her and opens her arms wide.  Tyler Theodore launches himself at her and Katie sweeps him into a hug that she never wants to break.

_ "Kit Kat!” _

Alright, maybe boys aren’t  _ all  _ bad.

Within the next ten minutes all the regular toddlers and children are settled and a hush falls over them as the cuckoo clock on the wall strikes ten and the two beloved puppets rise up from behind the stage. A giggle erupts from the crowd as she picks up where she left off last week. Her voice drops into a raspy, cliche emo-like voice as the Keith puppet takes the show.

With that she lets the script between her knees take her away and loses herself to the laughing of the little ones on the other side of the cardboard box, and she feels her worries melt away.

Thirty minutes later the skit ends  and her next order of business is pulling out her volume of the Chronicles of Narnia, settling herself on the carpet and cracking it open. It was a present from Takashi and Keith two years ago, and it remains to be her favorite series of all time and the pages show it. The spine no longer creaks when she opens it, but rather flops open, welcoming her like an old friend. It’s all of the books combined into a single thick volume and right now, they’ve almost just begun The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

“Chapter three…”

All too soon though, the children groan because they have to wait another week to find out what happens next, but their mothers are waiting so they drag their feet and whine the entire time. Tyler is the last to leave, hugging her one more time before bounding towards his ever-smiling mother. She’s just crouched down to finish packing up her things when a shadow falls over her.

The voice floats near her ears and she freezes as she recognizes the familiar tone, one she’s been trying to forget she knows. “Your play was really good, miss-?”

She stands slowly, back to the man and when she turns, she stares back at the man with wide eyes. He has long lashes and smooth, dark skin and a smile that drops so rapidly it makes her heart ache a little more, and she curses internally because she had  _ just  _ started to feel better.

It’s the man from the street corner.

_ Hunk. _

She gropes for her bag and shoves the puppet inside while still searching and Hunk’s still there, frozen. Irritation rises but she forces it down because she  _ has to get out of there right now  _ but she also to apologize.

“Tell your friend I’m sorry for what I said that,” she manages to choke out before she’s gone, fast enough she misses the surprise on his face. She’s running down the stairs when he calls her name into the wind and the afternoon rush, but she pretends to hear none of it.

 

 

 

Her hands are shaking when she unlocks the door and she throws her keys on the table, slamming it harder than necessary behind her and Keith, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, comes out of the kitchen to find her fingers trembling. He drops the towel and grasps her elbows. “Kat?”

Without hesitation, he pulls her into his arms and begins to stroke her hair, cradling her head. Against his body, her own shakes with restrained sobs as she presses her face into his shoulder and finds comfort in her older brother.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, but in reality is only minutes. When Keith finally stops combing through her loose hair with his fingertips, he finds her fast asleep against his chest, ear against where his heartbeat lies.

She wakes with a start. 

The dusty light of the setting sun peeks in through the gap in the curtains right onto her face and she scrunches her nose as the intrusion. Yawning, a looks around reveals she’s on the couch and her face is smashed into Keith’s side. She’s wrapped around him like a branch, half on her stomach and half not while her upper body lounges on his chest and there’s a wool blanket draped over them.

There’s low voices in the kitchen that carry through the air but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t make them out.

Sitting up and crawling out from between the couch’s back (and Keith’s side) is harder than she originally thought - the boy is a  _ koala  _ when he’s asleep - and she grabs another blanket off the rack by the couch’s arm on her way to the kitchen. Katie wraps herself in it like it’s her armor and she’s going into battle, because her heart feels fragile. Despite, she can’t help but strengthen her hold on the blanket as she folds it around her small shoulders.

When she turns the corner it’s Takashi, head bent to touch the other’s as the two whisper in tones too soft for her to hear, and at the sound of her footsteps, both figures turn. She freezes, ice running through her veins because the second figure has her mother’s eyes and her father’s nose, glasses hanging off the end of them, and her breath catches at the scar that carves it’s way down the stranger’s face.

It’s  _ Matt. _

Without a word she turns and flees the room, followed by her name in a panicked yell but she’s gone already and flying down the stairs as if she’s seen a dead man because she  _ has _ . She’s so tired of seeing that face everywhere she goes, so  _ tired _ of seeing it whether she’s awake or in bed, and nausea raises.

She barely remembers to grab shoes before throwing herself onto her bike and taking off. The garage door stays open behind her as her brother watches the little sister he hasn’t seen in five years run away again.

 

 

 

Whiskey, she’s found, is a cure to everything. 

She barely winces this time when it burns its way down her throat and rather tilts the glass back and forth on the bar top. Watching college students filter in for happy hour with dresses too short and hair too long, she looks on as the music ramps up. Groaning as they begin to flit around, crowding at the bar, she glares at a few men who grow a little too close with bad intentions in their breath.

Her fifth shot feels like a promise when she tips it back.

Katie’s laying down a bill for another round when a dark hand lays on top of hers and pushes the money away, replacing it with another bill. When she looks up though, her breath catches because  _ damn. _

She remembers how breathtaking she thought Hunk was both far away and close up, but obviously she was wrong. He’s not gorgeous; he’s  _ ethereal _ . In the hazy light of the bar that illuminates his eyelashes and his navy shirt makes his already bright eyes shine, Katie finds her voice and the courage to do something she rarely does.

“He forgave you, y’know,” he says, interrupting her and her words decide to stick to the roof of her mouth. She swirls the last drops of amber in the bottom of the shot glass, avoiding his gaze and he sighs. The stool next to her squeaks as he sits, and he slides another glass in front of her before holding up his own. She meets his eyes again and his smile is enough to steal her breath for the next decade.

They clink and she throws it back, relishing in the slight burn that covers the aching in her chest.

Setting it down and turning to the man, trying not to stare at his lips, she smiles at him; maybe she can try again. Maybe this is her second chance. 

She holds out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Katie.”

There’s a moment she fears he won’t take it as she means it, as an apology and  _ not _ a cover for her mistakes. But it’s all for naught as he smiles something small and hopeful and takes her hand in his larger one, shaking it firmly.

Their eyes lock.

“Hi Katie, I’m Tsuyoshi, but my friends call me Hunk.”

Afterwards, they stand outside the tiny bar on the corner and share a cigarette, blowing smoke into the painted night and swapping stories. She’s a little tipsy and secrets drip from loose lips that have never touched the light of day outside of the four walls of the apartment. But so is he, and their fingers brush when he passes the cigarette back.

She brings it to her lips and breathes in before exhaling, watching the smoke curl towards the heavens, and sighs. Beside her, Tsuyoshi -  _ Hunk _ , she reminds herself -accidentally brushes his fingers against her arm and find the ink that lays beneath her skin.

It’s her only tattoo. “What’s this?”

“It’s Gaelic.”

“For what?”

She tilts her head back and closes her eyes, relishing in the warmth from his soft hands when he takes the cigarette from her fingertips.

“New beginnings.”

 

 

 

“You _ WHAT?!” _

Keith’s pacing around the living room is grating on his nerves, but Takashi just sighs and rubs his forehead because it’s the only thing he  _ can  _ do. Next to him, Katie’s long-believed dead brother sits quietly and fiddles with his fingers as Keith yells because he’s just as uncomfortable as he is.

“Keith I-”

“Let me get this straight, Takashi Ryou Shirogane. You, knowing the anxiety and guilt Katie has surrounding her family and  _ specifically _ her brother, tracked him down and brought him home on the  _ one night  _ she needed her actual brothers,” Keith glares at the older version of his little sister that sits with his head down, “because she was already drained from her attack earlier? And you did  _ all of this _ without consulting me or even your  _ freaking  _ girlfriend first? What on this  _ good earth _ were you thinking?!”

Matt’s eyebrows furrow as the older brother tries again but closes his jaw with a  _ click _ when his girlfriend appears at the doorway. Her phone in hand there are tears in her eyes as she looks out on her surrogate family. “Coran hasn’t found anything and she’s not answering her phone.”

Keith hangs his head and holds up Katie’s phone - an older iPhone with a few scratches on the back that’s obviously dead - and both Alejandra’s face and the mood in the room drops. Katie’s out there without her phone and even though it’s a small town, there’s no telling where she went after being so shaky and afraid, thinking she saw her supposedly-dead brother.

The phone in Allura’s hand rings. She fumbles with it for a moment before shoving it against her ear and Takashi’s up, holding on to her hand as she bites her lip and she breaks into a smile. The air freezes as she smiles tearily at them. “He found her bike.”

In the next second, her face drops though, and Keith swears he’s swallowed his heart because it’s no longer in his throat. “There’s no sign of her.”

The key clicks.

Katie swings the door open, still giggling at something Hunk’s said, when she throws her keys in the bowl and looks up. Takashi, Allura and Keith are crowded around each other, Alejandra’s eyes shining with tears and everyone’s staring at her, including her  _ dead brother. _

“You guys look like  _ shit. _ ”

A sob breaks the silence and Katie lets out a grunt as Keith barrels into her and wraps his arms around her like he hasn’t seen her in years. She sends Hunk a mutual confused look as she hugs back, because yeah, she’s confused, but she will  _ never _ turn away a hug from him. Keith’s not the biggest fan of hugs, despite his secret love for cuddles, so hugging him becomes a treat.

He doesn’t let go and she raises her eyebrows as Takashi joins the hug, closely followed by Allura. She’s surrounded by her family and while she loves when they pile together - don’t get her wrong, she adores them - she’s still hopelessly lost.

“Uh, I have questions. First of all, why is Keith acting like I died and came back to life and  _ secondly _ , why is my dead brother sitting on our couch?”

 

 

 

“Two months ago I was checking my email and found an email from Mrs. Holt,” no one misses the wince from Katie as she sits on the couch with Keith right at her side, “saying that she had a suspicion Matt and Samuel were still alive. She knew that I was the one who went with them that night on the Kerberos mission and although she didn’t know about Katie, she knew how to contact me.”

Takashi sighs, rubbing his forehead as he continues. “I started digging in the Garrison’s archives and found a bunch of old documents with too many blacked-out lines to  _ not _ be suspicious, so I called up a contact of mine to break further into their servers. Colleen was right. What I found was a bunch of documents and events that didn’t quite add up, and it all started that night, six years ago, in the warehouse when our comms went dark and we got separated.”

Matt jumps in, eyes locked solely on the rug under his feet _.  _ “When we got separated, I was scared, and when the gunfire started, I knew I had to get out of there. I was barely off the premises, trying to get cell signal to call in and report what happened when I was knocked out, and that’s all I remember.”

He smiles wryly and reaches down to his right pant leg, and when he pulls it up, there’s not skin, but metal where his ankle should be. Katie sighs wearily, averting her eyes, and bitterly thinks that Takashi and Matthew are a matching set when Keith’s grip on her knee tightens minutely.

“About a year ago, Shailene Balmera found me on the side of the road, delirious, and took me in. She was a medical student in training, barely out of college, and I stayed with her for a few months,” breath hitching, Matt’s face goes pale. “I left one day to get groceries and when I came back, the house was on fire.”

His next exhale is shaky, and Takashi’s prosthetic rests on his back, urging him on. “I have no idea what happened to me during the time before she found me but after the fire, I ran. I laid low in motels and never stayed in one place for longer than a month. Then Shiro found me, by some miracle, and the rest is history.”

Matthew finally looks up and locks eyes with his sister, mournful hazel meeting hesitant amber. “I didn’t know about your attacks, Kitty. If I had I never would have shown up without warning you or even your flatmates. We,” he gestures to himself and Takashi who smiles sadly, “never meant to hurt you.”

His eyes fall again. “Especially me.”

Three seconds later, he’s still staring at the carpet as the door clicks shut to Katie’s room and he sobs once before Takashi’s arm wraps around his shoulder. “She just needs time, Matt. She’ll come around, you’ll see.”

 

 

 

As she stares up at the ceiling, Katie wonders if she’ll ever stop feeling this  _ exhausted. _

The past few days she’s been running on zero and she’s tired of waking up empty, but such is her life, so she sighs as she throws the covers off. It’s a Monday of all things and she was up late with Keith watching movies and purposefully ignoring the elephant in the room - apartment. After the Star Wars marathon that ended at around three that morning, if her memory is to be trusted, they fell asleep in the nest of her comforters.

She wrinkles her nose when she sniffs her clothes; she hasn’t showered in two days, amidst all the excitement. A quick glance at the  _ sleeping beauty _ on her bed reveals he’s still dead to the world - that bastard - so she grabs fresh jeans and flannel shirt she’s stolen from Takashi.

The bathroom door clicks close behind her and she sets her phone down, humming along to the acoustic song that drifts through the speaker. Thirty minutes later, she towels off before redressing, braiding her hair back as she ventures into the kitchen and perhaps her heart isn’t as fractured and empty as it was before.

Monday mornings are always weird because Keith and Takashi sleep in since the shop is closed, so she’s usually the only one up, but she stops in her tracks when she turns the corner from the hallway to the kitchen and sees someone in the kitchen.

Not just anyone, but  _ Hunk. _

Katie doesn’t know why he turns around, maybe it’s from her choking at the sight of him with his hair mussed with sleep and turned away from her to the stove as he hums and shakes his hips. In the moment before she gives herself away, she thanks the heavens and whoever may be up there for allowing her to see this vision.

“Oh, good morning Katie!”

Hoping the blush doesn’t reach her cheeks, she smiles back as she goes over to him and tries to look around his arm. “Whatcha making there, big guy?”

She can’t tell if the pink on his cheeks is from singing or embarrassment, but she hopes it’s the latter. Before she can spy what he’s making though, he flaps his hands at her, shooing her away from the oven. “You’ll see when I’m done, nosy!”

Giggling, she slides into one of the stools on the other side of the counter and loses herself in conversation.

At some point he abandons the stove and comes to sit by her side and they dig into plates of pancakes and bacon. Roaring mockingly, he institutes a fork dueling session when she tries to steal the fried delicacy off his plate after he looks down at his phone.

As she chews she wonders when the last time she’s ever felt this light was.

When Takashi and Allura finally emerge from his -  _ their _ \- room, there’s a smear of maple syrup across Hunk’s forearm and her face is red with laughter. Sputtering at her cunningness, he reaches reaches across the countertop to swipe at her bacon and she squeals. The two watch, amused, from the doorway as she grabs her plate and dances underneath his arm before dashing out of the room. Hunk follows closely, shooting them a smile before locking his arms around her waist and lifting her.

Keith, who finally decides to wake up right before noon is rubbing his eyes as he closes the door to Katie’s room and turns around to a living room in chaos. He wonders how he didn’t wake up sooner at the yelling from the two on the floor as they push each other with their shoulders and argue about who’s winning as Hunk proceeds to beat Katie in Mario Kart.

He watches, bemused, as he loads up his plate and takes a seat next to Takashi and Alejandra. Smothering a laugh as he watches Katie howl in mock outrage when the larger man crosses the finish line before her and tackle him to the ground, he turns to the lovebirds.

“Good morning.”

There’s a lightness in Takashi’s eyes his little brother hasn’t seen in awhile when he smiles back over the rim of his mug. “It is, isn’t it?”

 

 

 

The rest of the day passes quickly, between Mario Kart and the blatant ignoring of the elephant in the room.

Later that day, Takashi and Allura leave for date night - one Takashi insisted they didn’t  _ have _ to go to since so much had happened, reservation be damned. Keith’s downstairs working on installing a new part in his bike, so Katie finds herself lounging around the apartment with Hunk. 

After texting Lance, Hunk slinks off the kitchen for a while and Katie works on coding for a little bit until he re-emerges with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies. Placing one of the two glasses of ice cold milk in front of her, she swears she’s falling even more in love with this man, if that’s even possible.

Setting aside her laptop, she takes the plate from him before he turns out the light and turns his attention to the tv, plopping down beside her. “What’re we watching?”

She shrugs, flipping through channels. “Nothing specific, I was waiting until you got back.”

_ Is he blushing? _

It doesn’t matter either way because she’s blushing as well and the room falls into an awkward silence; when she looks up, Hunk’s eyes are locked solely onto her. Heat spreads from her toes to her cheeks and she blushes harder when his face turns red because she just  _ knows  _ he saw her reaction and she curses internally.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

Eventually, they end up turning on some documentary on Mothman that Keith has bookmarked on his account and laugh overtop of it the entire time. Her stomach aches from giggling so much, but Hunk’s hand is on her knee and her own is on his forearm, and she finally realizes what her mother meant the night she kicked her stand back and took off into the night.

_ “Mom! I’m leaving. You can’t stop me.” _

_ There’s tears streaming down her face, stinging her chapped lips, and her knees hurt from kneeling on the carpet, but it makes no difference. Blank eyes stare back at her, watching the wall behind her, and a bitter taste rises in her throat because her mom won’t even  _ look  _ at her. _

_ “Do you ever think I miss them too?” No answer. “AND THAT MAYBE I TOSS AND TURN IN BED MISSING MY BROTHER AND MY FATHER JUST AS MUCH AS YOU?” _

_ Anger bubbles in her chest and in her stomach as she rises, tears streaming down her face even faster and she regards the shell that was once her mother. The hollow body that once held her mother, her rock and protector and best friend, now rocks in the chair by the window and clutches at the shredded paper that came in the mail and expressed empty apologies over the loss of her husband and son. _

_ She turns and walks away, boots stomping towards the door, and she’s just reached the door, bag over her shoulder and rock in her heart, knob in hand when she hears it. _

_ “It’s a feeling you can’t run from, can’t forget, can’t escape.” _

_ She slams the door behind her and on the front step, her lip quivers. Her boot leaves the top stair and the heavens weep onto her as she straddles her bike and looks her childhood home one last time before the lights fade behind her. _

_ From inside the house, Colleen Holt watches the last of her family leave. _

_ A tear, unnoticed and unintended, rolls down her face as she closes the curtain. _

 

 

 

Allura’s giddy laugh mixes with the sobs that escape from her mouth at the sight of him kneeling before her, ring sitting proudly between his thumb and forefinger, and she wonders if she’s ever been this happy.

She grabs his elbows and hoists him to his feet and kisses him so deeply that his body curves against hers and she can’t feel where her skin ends and his begins, but she doesn’t care. His lips, still tasting faintly of the wine they shared during dinner feel like a promise against her own and she wants to be closer,  _ needs _ to be closer.

It feels like centuries later when he breaks the kiss and she feels the tears slipping down her cheeks drop from her chin, and he wipes them away. He’s close enough that his words are uttered into the air they share and she breathes in, licking her lips. “You never answered me, love.”

She laughs. “You always have the worst timing, my love.”

Shrugging, Takashi smiles back (slightly uneasy but hopeful, loving, soft) and the motion makes her knees weak. “As you’ve told me. So?”

Allura wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, catching his mouth again as she whispers the desired words into his kiss-tinted lips. She smiles into the kiss as the hands on her lower back wrap around her like a promise that’ll never be broken and she knows it won’t.

“Yes, Takashi.  _ Always.” _

The walk back to the car has them stumbling, giggling, like two drunk teenagers and as she pulls her fiance into yet another kiss, Allura hopes the feeling never fades.

The first thing Allura does when she gets back to Takashi’s apartment - after showing off the ring to his roommates and Hunk - is dial up her cousin. Biting her lip, she almost squeals when he picks up.

“Lance, will you be my maid of honor?”

Katie pales at the name, sending Hunk a confused and slightly irritated look because he  _ never bothered to bring up the fact that Lance McClain, the man she called stupid, is the cousin to her her big brother’s betrothed _ , and Hunk gulps. Though he had sat Lance down and explained what happened and he forgave her, he knows she still feels guilty.

All of them can hear the elated screeching from the speaker on Allura’s phone and there’s some faintly coherent phrases in Spanish as Lance jumps around because his adored older cousin - one only older than him by mere minutes, despite whatever his mama says - the girl who’s always been there for him and shares his name is  _ getting married to the love of her life _ .

He prays that this time it’s true, because he knows how hard it was for her last time as the man she loved - and thought  _ loved her back _ \- left her at the altar and ran off with a good chunk of her money and her mother’s most prized possession; her ring.

But he knows Takashi Shirogane, and he knows his utter adoration towards her is genuine.

There’s a hole in his chest that expands a little when he hears Allura giggling on the other end because while he’s glad for her, he’s still mourning the loss of the one he thought he loved and loved him back, and  _ that _ night plays clearly behind his eyelids whenever he tries to sleep.

The night he came back to _their_ house, flowers in hand, and found another in _their_ bed.

_Them_ became _him_.

Maybe his family is just cursed.

But this isn’t his moment, it’s his cousin’s, so he blinks away tears and assures his older cousin that he’s fine - her worried tone hits home at the silence from his end. Even after the line clicks off, he’s left with the emptiness on the phone and in his chest and brushes some more powder under his eyes.

He’ll be fine.

 

 

 

Lance McClain hates Keith Kogane with a passion no one’s seen since the invention of crocs.

The first time they meet is three days after his cousin gets engaged, and Lance knows he has to meet the little brother of his cousin’s fiancé. Make no mistake, he’s ready to charm the pants off the man when he comes face to face with the sudden realization that he’s  _ gorgeous. _

He’s sitting in his cousin’s cafe when the bell above the door rings and there’s Takashi, smiling when he sees him. Lance is standing up to shake his hand and congratulate him when a man enters behind him and his world grinds to a stop.

In his lifetime, Lance McClain has seen many beautiful men and women - hell, he’s even dated a few because he’s not so bad himself - but every sane thought he’s ever had stops at the sight of Keith Kogane. Porcelain skin, messy midnight hair and grey-purple eyes that look like broken glass in the sunlight and Lance has to try very hard to not choke on his own spit like an idiot.

He’s never been enamored by someone so quickly.

“Lance, this is Keith. He’s my best man,” he has to start himself from blushing because he knows that means the two of them will walk down the aisle arm-in-arm, “so I thought getting to know each other would be a good idea.”

_ Say something,  _ his brain screams at him,  _ ¿eres tonto o…?,  _ and he scrambles for a few seconds before just opening his mouth and letting whatever comes to mind spill from his lips, winging it. “Oh my god, is that a mullet?”

He winces at his own words as Keith’s eyes grow stormy and he reaches up to his hair.

_ Great going, you dingus. _

Emotions flutter through him like papers in the wind. Keith scowls, his pretty pink lips curving downward and eyebrows furrowing - making him want to mourn the loss of his tiny smile he had been wearing before - as Takashi sends him a  _ look _ .

“Yeah what’s it to you, flyboy,” the man spits, and irritation flares in Lance’s stomach because he’s an  _ idioto, un hombre estúpido, estúpido con una boca estúpida y estúpida  _ who doesn’t know when to stop and when to go. But by this point he’s already this neck-deep in his stupidity, so how much worse can it get?

“It’s a monstrosity to society, that’s what it is.”

Apparently, so,  _ so _ much worse, and behind him, Takashi groans.

 

 

It’s four in the morning when Takashi senses someone in the room. He bolts upwards, searching frantically for the knife he keeps in the nightstand. Sweating, cold rivulets roll down his neck and his fingers have just wrapped around the hilt when he hears it.

“-kashi! Takashi, stop it! It’s me!”

Blinking, his foggy vision clears and there’s Katie. Dressed in one of Hunk’s shirts that he must have forgotten when he stayed over - he tries not to dwell on that fact - her arms are stretched out as to hug him. “Kat?”

In a single second, she goes from concerned to meek. He pats the side of the bed, sensing she needs to talk to him and she sits down on the edge. As she twists the hem of her nightgown, he glances at Allura, but his sleeping beauty is still dead to the world. She could sleep through a bombing and only turn over.

Some nights, he envies her.

“I think it’s time.”

Startled, Takashi swivels back in bed towards his little sister whose gaze is firmly trained on the grey comforter. Her knuckles, white in the moonlight that streams through the window on the far wall, grip her shirt. He reaches for her, gently prying them from the hem and in the next motion, he pulls her to his chest.

If it was anyone else, they would be uneasy because he’s not wearing a shirt but Katie just shaky exhales and rests her ear to his chest. He knows how reassuring the sound of a heartbeat is to her and knows that sometimes, she needs a little time to find the words for what she wants to say.

So they sit in silence, his favorite girl in the entire world against his chest and his second favorite snoozing beside him. He remembers how Allura had laughed when he told her that Katie would always be his favorite and how she assured him that she was fine being his number two. Takashi smiles at the thought. They’ve come so far in two and a half years; and not just him and Alejandra, but him and Katie.

“I’m ready.”

He isn’t surprised; he knew that she would come around eventually. Despite how hurt and guilty she felt when it came to her family - how sore of a topic it was - he knows from her stories that she could never stay mad at her brother for long.

“Yeah?” The same goes for him and Keith; she’s rarely as mad at them as she was when she confronted Takashi about bringing Matt to their house without warning her. He had to work through the guilt seeing her fall apart and knowing he was the reason, but she forgave him.

Everyone had - even Keith, who Takashi was positive might  _ never _ . It was no secret that his adopted younger brother was much closer with the girl they picked up off the streets that rainy night than he was. While it hurt in the beginning, when she naturally gravitated towards Keith, he learned it wasn’t anything against him; she just connected more with his experiences and personality.

Contrary to popular belief, Takashi knew exactly why Keith insisted the girl with the banged up motorcycle would stay with them until she got back on her feet. He wasn’t stupid - he knew his little brother, while getting better, still had trust issues when it came to family. He knew that Keith took one look at the teenager under the crying streetlight and saw himself in the reflection of the window.

Katie sniffs against his chest, shoulder relaxing as she faces the thing that’s haunted her for years.

“Yeah.”

Humming, he pulls her closer and drops a kiss to the top of her head, hair mussed with sleep. “Okay then. I’ll call him in the morning if that’s what you want.”

“Can you call him now?”

He smiles, already reaching for his nightstand again, but this time it’s for his phone. “I figured you might say that,” he pulls her away so she can look at him, “so I’ll call him and you’ll go get dressed into something other than Hunk’s shirt.”

She blushes so vibrantly and violently he can see it even though the room is mostly dark and only lit by the moon outside. He chuckles lowly and she smiles back. Dropping one more kiss to her forehead, they both take a moment to float in the warmth of each other before she pulls away.

Silently pulling the sheets from his legs, he watches her pad towards the door. “Katie?”

His voice is low but she still hears it and turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.”

The smile that stretches across her face causes an explosion of brotherly love in his chest and she nods, smiling back as she slips through the door.

Behind him he feels the bed shift and sheets rustle and then there’s arms around his shoulders.

Allura’s forehead against his neck, she presses a sleepy kiss to his hairline. “Mmmm baby where’re you going?”

He turns, smiling so softly at the love of his life that she smiles back despite her drowsiness. Dropping a kiss onto her hair, he steels the resolve to get up. If he doesn’t get up now, he’ll end up staying in bed due to his fiancée’s siren-like persuasion tactics. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again if he’s not careful.

“Katie wants me to call Matt; she’s finally ready to talk to him.”

His neck grows warm as Allura purrs against it before kissing the skin beneath his ear. “I’m glad.”

Pulling himself out of bed is the hardest thing he’s done in a while and despite how she murmurs for him to come back, he just pulls the covers back over her form. Smiling sleepily, Alejandra snuggles into his spot and burrows herself beneath the blankets.

Despite his resolution to leave her how she is and call up Matt so the two can make up, he can’t help but surrender one last kiss to her cheek. Grumbling from inside her nest, her hand appears to wave him towards the door and he chuckles.

“I’ll be back soon, my love.”

Slipping out of the room, he shuts the door with a quiet  _ click _ , careful not to wake up his brother next door. He pads down the hallway, yawning again as he wraps his robe around his shoulders. Stumbling towards the kitchen, the promise of freshly-brewed coffee is enough to keep him awake until he gets there.

When he finally makes it, he squints up at the lights before taking a sip from the mug already set on the end of the counter. The top of the liquid is satisfyingly dark, telling him Katie’s made it just the way he likes it, and he smiles as he takes another swig.

From the hallway, Katie emerges in an oversized sweater that falls off her shoulder and dark-washed jeans. She fiddles with the hem before her roaming fingers find her hair, combing through the sleep-addled mess. Her eyes dart around the room before settling on the cup of coffee he slid across the counter.

“Ready?”

Wrapping her hands around the mug as she slides onto one of the stools, her body shakes with her exhale. “Do it.”

The phone rings for barely ten seconds before there’s a click. “Hello?” Matt sounds groggy, voice scratchy and Takashi winces because it seems he’s forgotten the time.

“It’s me.”

There’s a sudden rustling on the other end and Matt’s response is quick, swift with adrenaline and the fear that something’s wrong. “Is Katie okay? What happened? I’ll be there in five-”

Katie and Takashi exchange a look for the barest of seconds before he cuts him off. “She wants to talk.”

The line goes silent and Matt sucks in a shaky breath, voice quiet and vulnerable. “Really?”

At the counter, she nods as if she can hear him as she stares out the window. The sun is just starting to rise from behind the hills in the distance, painting the sky like a Van Gogh piece never found and she sips from the mug, steeling herself for what’s to come.

Behind her, Takashi hangs up and takes a moments to just look at his little sister. She’s barely twenty-two but the way her shoulders slump and her spine curves makes it looks like she’s double that. TIme hasn’t been kind to her and the bags underneath her eyes testify that.

He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezes, and they watch the sun rise until there’s a knock on the door.


	2. and flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL LOOK AT THIS [AMAZING ART](https://hidge-resource.tumblr.com/post/171153510326/she-remembers-how-breathtaking-she-thought) THAT HIDGE-RESOURCE DID FOR THIS FIC I AM FREAKING OUT IT LOOKS SO GOOD AND SO F T PLEASE GO GIVE THEM THE LOVE THEY DESERVE
> 
> i'm so sorry for what happens in this chapter guys.

From there, it’s all uphill.

Katie and Matt sit down that morning, words quiet and teary and it ends in tight hugs. He becomes a constant both in the house and her life and they spend most of the days after their conversation talking about what’s happened since they’ve last seen each other.

Hunk becomes a regular in their house as well as the wedding grows closer with the spring. It’s no surprise when he’s there in the mornings and walking in on game nights, dragging Lance along. It’s also no surprise when Hunk and Katie start hanging out more and the others exchange knowing looks when during their weekly Friday game nights, their fingers brush while laying down cards for Compatibility.

“No fair!” Lance leans back against the couch, arms crossed and lip jutted as he watches Katie and Hunk bump fists from across the low table. “You guys are obviously cheating somehow.”

The subject card had been Problem, and as the leading couple, everyone else held their breath hoping in vain that the two seemingly best friends would mess up somehow. How could they not? Since they were the farthest along on the board and closest to the end, they only had to lay down one card each.

If that single card wasn’t the same for both of them when flipped, it would be game over. Lance and Keith would be crowned the winners and the rest of them would have to take three consecutive shots of whatever liquid the winners instructed.

Oh, what a sweet,  _ sweet _ victory that would be.

Across from each other at the coffee table, everyone watched uneasily as Katie and Hunk smirked at each other. The tension is palpable as they reach for the single card in front of him and Takashi sucks in a breath.

A split second of silence before the room erupts in chaos.

Lance throws down his cards, disregarding the mess they make on the carpet as Allura drops her head onto the coffee table with an audible  _ thunk.  _ Keith growls before launching himself across the table to play wrestle with Katie and Takashi chuckles.

Allura’s still frowning when she tips back the first shot and winces at the bitter taste of whiskey.

When Takashi first met Allura, she had been sitting at a dirty table at a bar downtown challenging anyone to a drinking and then arm-wrestling contest once the drinks had been cleared from the table. He remembers waiting on the edges of the crowd but still cheering on this nameless girl with messy long platinum hair and enough determination to gulp down glass after glass of beer.

She walked out of  _ Wasted Youth _ with a plaque on the wall proudly bearing her name.

The next day, Takashi had walked into the tea shop next door to his garage,  _ Chai Your Luck,  _ and had come face-to-face with the same girl from the night before.

Across the table, Katie looks too proud of herself and Hunk keeps chuckling.

Despite winning, both winners knock back three shots as well and it’s only after the party has wound down that Keith registers that Lance disappeared sometime he had his back turned and he can’t help the sinking in his heart.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

But then, before they know it, the day is there.

 

 

 

When posing the question of when to have the wedding, both parties agreed that sooner was better and the date was set in late spring.

Takashi and Allura had picked an outdoor venue with their reception in an open-aired building so even into the night they could enjoy the breeze and they were right to. The day is warm, bees buzzing happily by the flower arrangements that are  _ everywhere _ . No matter where they step, there’s always petals underneath their shoes and they’re often sneezing from the amount of pollen.

Hunk knows that as a groomsmen, he’ll be escorting Katie down the aisle - he’d done so the past two days during rehearsal - but it doesn’t hit him that he’ll be doing it in a  _ suit _ and her in a  _ dress _ until the three girls chosen by Allura come out of the dressing room and his heart  _ stops _ .

The bridesmaid dresses handpicked by the bride are a rosy pink color and are held up by thin straps that balance across exposed collarbones and the neckline plunges just enough to be teetering on the edge of conservative. The bottom of the dresses are long and flutter pleasantly in the warm breeze that brushes through and around their legs.

It’s the back - or lack thereof - that throws him for a loop.

He had planned on asking Katie to dance with him during the reception, had spent the entire day psyching himself up in the mirror, but his confidence falls to pieces around him when she turns around to take one of the smaller bouquets from Lance’s arms that mimic the one Allura will be carrying.  

Is it hot in here or is it just him?

The back of the dress is nothing but strings that criss-cross each other and lead farther and farther down the sculpted pale and freckled planes of her back and drape against the curve of her spine -  _ NOPE. _

“Need a glass of cold water, buddy?” Hunk turns to see Lance grinning at him with such a smug smirk that he’s never wanted to punch his best friend harder than that time with the enchiladas in the Garrison High School cafeteria.

“Don’t make me put you in a headlock.”

Gulping, Lance slides away from him at the countdown to go time from Allura’s planner, and in the next second, he has to prevent himself from keeling over because Katie is right next to him.

Her hair, usually up in a messy bun or around her face in braids or limp waves, is pinned and braided up into a ponytail that swings with every movement. As his gaze wanders - respectfully, of course - it gets harder and harder for him to breathe. Rosy pink and innocent, the backless dress has a neckline that at his height teases the slightest bit of cleavage and the rest of it lays gracefully across her form.

She’s in white flats, her head barely level with his chest as it always is and she loops her arm through his. When she smiles up at him, bouquet grasped firmly in her other hand, Hunk swears he’s touching an angel.

“Ready, big guy?”

In front of them, Lance quips something about the flower tucked into Keith’s breast pocket, and the retaliation comes in the form of a slap on the arm. Chuckling, Lance folds his arm into the groom’s younger brother’s elbow and Katie doesn’t miss the way Keith’s knees wobble when Lance shoots him another smile.

Hunk draws her attention back when he pats her hand, always so cold against his forever-warm ones, and her smile grows at the motion. He smiles back and she sets her sight of the doors before them that will lead them down the aisle to their best friend’s wedding.

“With you? Always.”

 

 

 

The fabric of his suit rustles when Keith pins the flower in place beside his heart and the green fabric folded in his breast pocket, and his breath hitches because  _ this is actually happening,  _ but he’s ready, because every step of it will be done with his family by his side.

Takashi Shirogane is going to walk down an aisle of gold and white and marry the love of his life.

Maybe something in his chest aches when he realizes his mother and father won’t be here to see this when it’s his little brother escorting him to the altar rather than his father, but there’s two empty seats in the front row, and he’s already teary-eyed.

There’s a bark of laughter and Keith’s there with a tissue, holding it out to him and smiling widely. “Already? Geez big bro, try to make it to the actual wedding first.”

He chokes out a laugh through his tears and takes the cloth, patting his cheeks. “Shut up, I’m not going to be the one who cries during the vows.” Keith’s eyebrows shoot up and internally he smirks at the competitive twinkle in his sibling’s eyes.

“You willing to bet money on that, hotshot?”

He smirks, holding out his hand as the soft wind rustles through his suit and ruffles the curtains that surround the arch that will lead his bride to him. “You bet.”

 

 

 

_ Clink clink clink. _

Turning from where she’s threading her fingers through the hair at her husband’s neck while she listens to him talk in low tones, Alejandra smiles at Keith when he stands up, climbs the stage they sit on and despite his fear of being in front of people, clears his throat.

“So three days ago, my older brother informs me I have to write a speech but now, after their vows, I’m not sure how I can follow.” Laughter erupts from the tables in front of them and Takashi shrugs, smiling as his wife throws her head back and laughs like she has no care in the world.

And she  _ doesn’t _ .

She is happy and safe and warm in her husband’s arms, content to listen to his heartbeat. She rests her head on his shoulder, disregarding her hairstyle, and laughs along to his little brother telling tales of watching him grow up and fall in love.

Allura Shirogane’s never felt happier.

Keith recounts how his older brother gushed about her when he first came home from meeting her, and the smile that lights up his face makes the warmth in her chest grow.

“Takashi Shirogane, I have never known a time you weren’t my older brother, my Hiro, my best friend, and it’s been a pleasure watching you grow into the man you are today. I may not be your brother in flesh, but blood is thicker than water, and that means so much more to me than any piece of paper.”

Next to her, Allura’s husband sighs, tears welling, and she hands him a tissue. Keith folds up his paper and smiles at his brother, and although it’s mostly happiness, there’s an underlying string of bitterness, and she understands. What’s left of his family is leaving home, and even though it’s only moving to the building next door, it hurts. “You’ve been by my side my entire life, always knowing when to hold me close and when not to, and now it’s my turn to return the favor; I’m happy for you and your new life.”

Takashi is out of the seat and pulling Keith into his embrace in the next second, and Alejandra watches the two brothers pull each other closer.

They’ll be just fine.

Everyone will be.

 

 

 

After Lance’s speech - which leaves everyone in stitches until the very end when everyone’s grasping at their tissues - and the alcohol is starting to flow, she slips out into one of the connected rooms off the side of the open-aired building.

Minutes later, as she slips the dress from her shoulders, the door clicks open.

“Wow,” the voice behind her marvels and she giggles as his strong arms hold her hips delicately. Takashi presses a kiss to her shoulder and she watches him the mirror. Then, dressed only in undergarments that are  _ supposed  _ to be saved for their first night as husband and wife, Allura turns in Takashi’s embrace. Pulling him closer by his lapels, she drags him into a kiss he has no qualms in breaking until she does.

“Risky move there, handsome, sneaking out after me,” she gasps when his mouth moves onto her skin and sucks lightly at her sweet spot - the junction where her neck and shoulder curve together - and his smirk is discernible against the sensitive patch of skin.  

“What can I say,  _ darling _ , I like to live on the edge.”

Threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, she swirls her fingertips until his teeth scrape her skin. Gasping, she pulls at the roots when heat pools in her stomach at the sound of him growling. His hips snap against hers and suddenly she’s against the door as she sighs into his mouth and wraps her legs around his waist.

His hands find the curve of her tailbone and he hoists her up while his mouth never moves from her neck. Panting as he lavishes her sensitive skin with kisses and bites, soon every breath from him raises goosebumps because she’s so high strung.

Despite the craving of her body for him to finish what he -  _ they _ \- started, she breaks his lips from her neck - regretfully and he lowers her to the ground. Licking her lips as she watches his pupils dilate at the reddening and raising of her skin from his ministrations, she smirks back and presses a final soft kiss to his swollen lips. “Help me change?”

“Gladly.”

His warm fingertips trace the planes of her back when she turns, raising her hair as he buttons up the top piece of the white dress she’ll wear for the rest of the night –  _ until she takes it off _ , her beloved whispers into her skin and she shivers at the thought.

“See you later, my love.” Then she’s gone, whisking through the door in a new white dress that’s shorter and lighter and shows the  _ slightest _ hint of a midriff. Groaning, he drops his head into the door he ends up resting his forehead on and waits.   When Takashi finally returns to the party, his mischievous wife  _ laughs _ at him as she spins with her uncle, the last of her family, and his glare only makes her laugh harder.

Across the dancefloor, another member of the Shirogane family sits off to the side and watches someone he loves in secret spin one of the bridesmaids across the floor and bat his eyelashes at her. That is until Florence - he remembers her from the wedding, recognizes her pastel pink hair - drags the first girl away, playfully tugging at her boxbraids. If he memory serves him right, Keith recalls her from Allura’s bridesmaid as Phoebe and he catches the glint in Florence’s eyes.

Keith smothers a chuckle at the look on Lance’s face when the two girls slide into a darker corner not reached by the light of the candles and pull each other closer into a kiss.

His gaze swings across the room and lands on Katie, who is barely an arm’s throw from him, and he watches her sway to the song. Her body is angled towards  _ someone _ across the dancefloor and when he looks across the floor, he sees a man in a champagne suit matching his own.

“You should go ask him to dance, Kat.”

She squeals, jumping at least a foot in the air at the sound of his voice, and there’s a frown on her face when she turns to him. Smoothing down her dress and fiddling with her ponytail, she shrugs, mock-nonchalant. “Ask who?”

“You’re full of bullshit, you know that right?”

Her eyebrows furrow as she scowls, letting the innocent facade fall away. Her gaze returning to Hunk, his deep-bellied laugh floats over to them and she flushes.

“Well you’re a hypocrite, Keith Kogane, so I guess we’re even.” Before he can refute, she flips her hair over her shoulder and takes off strutting across the dance floor towards the two men. From his spot by the tables, Keith identifies the exact moment Lance catches sight of her because his mouth curves upward into a smirk and he pushes Hunk away from him.

Stumbling, Tsuyoshi ends up startling Katie so bad she almost trips. He barely catches her in time before she crashes to the floor and she grasps his forearms. Hoping he doesn’t notice her blush, she raises her eyebrow before taking his hand in hers and laying his other hand against her back.

His large, soft palm rests lightly over the exposed planes of her back thanks to her dress and she shivers. Despite the warmth of his skin, she finds goosebumps because they’re  _ touching,  _ and she’s never been touched like this before. She finds she doesn’t mind, and later that night, when they finally part with matching blushes, Katie Holt will discover she’ll begin to crave that touch.

But for now her fingertips trail his shoulder before resting there and when the music swells, she allows this man to sweep her away for the night, away from the noise in her mind.

Across the dance floor, Lance McClain hollers something at his best friend before disappearing into the people in the crowd. He’s craving a drink because while he’s happy for Hunk, he craves what he has now.

Keith Kogane runs after him, eager for a first chance.

Afterall, if Katie Holt can try again at love, maybe,  _ just maybe _ , he can too.

 

 

 

“Come here often?”

Katie snorts before realizing what she’s doing and the three seconds between her action and reaction is silence. Chuckling, the man in her arms -  _ or the man holding her _ is a more accurate statement she thinks - spins her across the dancefloor and her dress fans out.

She decides to play along, because she’s known Hunk for months now, and she’s never been more ready. “As a matter of fact, I do. What’s it to you, sir?”

Their bodies are pressed close together before he leads her into a open-aired twirl and pulling her close again. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re the beautiful woman I saw here a few minutes ago. Maybe you can help me find her?”

_ Don’t blush,  _ she tells herself, desperate, but despite her best efforts she feels her cheeks heating up. Hoping the darkness of the dance floor will save her pride, she knows even if it isn’t covered, Hunk is too much of a gentleman to bring it up.

All the cards are on the table, and she folds. “What does she look like? I’ll do my best.”

Another spin, and she finds herself - impossibly - closer to him. In the back of her mind, she knows the song has ended  _ eons _ ago and the song they’re spinning to is  _ not _ the song to spin to but she can’t find it in her heart to care. She breathes in the deep scent of baked bread and spices and dimly thinks it’s something sharp, like ginger or cloves.

Maybe his fingers trail over her back when he pulls her back to him, maybe she blushes, maybe she licks her lips.

“She’s a bird; pink plumage and the most exquisite crest - polished golden - and her eyes,” he dips her and holds, staring so deeply into her eyes she swears he’s reading all her secrets, “are like fields of poppies when the light hits them in the early morning.” This time, the flush of her cheeks is even harder when she remembers the night two days ago.

When they laughed hard and threw popcorn at each other instead of watching Lord of the Rings. When she fell asleep on his shoulder on the couch and the next morning, woke up on his chest. When he hummed and braided her hair, believing her asleep and she  _ let _ him.

The music rises and falls around them, like waves, but she’s fine to sink in the outer waters of his eyes as he continues. “In the nighttime, though, her eyes are such a deep shade of amber that as if they were molded and shaped the finest of golds from the gods themselves.”

She’s weightless in that moment, just as much as a bird as he described her to be. Her wings the folds of her dress, and when he lifts her back onto her feet, she finds more than just her footing. Her breath mingles with his as she draws closer and stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around those shoulders that have carried her and supported her.

She allows herself to fall, allows herself to draw too close to the sun and melts gladly.

When his lips finally slide against hers, she swears her heart stops  _ all together  _ but also explodes into the supernova it was meant to be all along because it’s  _ him _ and  _ her _ and  _ them _ .

Hunk’s lips are firm and soft, like the rest of him and she finds herself melting into his embrace when he draws her impossibly closer. He kisses her like she’s his sun, moon and all the stars and if it’s possible, she finds herself melting further with every touch. She’s melting but also igniting and she scrambles for purchase.

Katie gasps into his mouth and kisses back with the desperate will and determination of someone who’s drowning in an ocean of their own making.

Her fingertips card through the baby hairs at the nape of his neck as he cups her face and tilts it slightly. When his tongue flicks over her bottom lip, she lets him in eagerly because the only part of her he doesn’t know is her body and the way it moves against his.

She aims to change that.

Fireworks go off behind her eyelids when his tongue scrapes over her teeth with the barest of pressures. Moaning softly, she tries to block out the sounds of the whooping off to the side, but eventually she can’t and their first kiss is broken by the smile that stretches across her lips.

Her toes are cramping when she lowers her body back down but besides that she doesn’t move away from him and he from her.

They stay like that; swaying to a pop song that neither of them are listening to and resting their forehead against the other’s. A dusty pink spreads from Hunk’s cheeks to his neck and she smiles so softly up at him that he swears his heart melts between his ribs. His adoration for this woman with the motorcycle and Gaelic tattoo and hate of long island iced teas and everything colored pink has completely taken over him.

Her heaving chest is against his, her fingers in his hair, her flushed and plump-kissed lips searching for air they share, he finds he doesn’t mind. Somehow, in the chaos and the peace, he finds the words.

“I think I found her,” he whispers into the space between their lips and her eyes flicker back to them. Leaning forward, she chases his words with actions.

“You have and she’s gladly caught.”

His next words are swallowed by her lips and he finds he doesn’t mind.

 

 

 

The day after Takashi and Allura leave for France on their honeymoon, the doorbell rings.

Keith’s downstairs working on a customer’s bike so it’s only Katie when she rolls off the beanbag in the corner of the living room. Turning the lock, she comes face to face -  _ more like face to chest, _ she thinks as she looks up - with Hunk, who waves before blushing and she finds herself smiling before she can stop herself.

Moving aside, she lets him in and closes the heavy door behind him. “Hey there, stranger. What’s up?”

Instead of taking off his jacket and making himself comfortable, he fiddles his thumbs in the hallway leading to the living room. “Can we talk?”

Immediately, her stomach turns and she feels tears prickling at her eyes as her anxiety begins to bounce off the ceiling, feeding ideas into her brain, whispering things she doesn’t want to hear. The walls begin to close in on her, trapping her in her own mind and she feels her knees going weak because  _ what if he only kissed her because she kissed him  _ and  _ the kiss meant nothing because you’re not good enough, why would you be  _ and she feels a scream building.

“Katie, breathe,  _ breathe _ , please breathe, it’s okay!”

The walls fall away and she’s drowning; fighting a current she can’t  _ see _ , can’t  _ feel _ , and it wraps around her faster and harder than the walls and squeezes until she can’t  _ breathe _ , can’t  _ think _ , and she almost wishes for the walls again because  _ at least she could fight them. _

The waves cry out as they crash against her and she believes the things they whisper, for how can she not? This is her punishment for letting her brother die out of arm’s reach, for allowing her father to disappear from her heart, for permitting her mother to slip through her fingertips.

This is her fault, her cross to bear.

“I need you to feel.”

Arms; there’s a hand on her elbow; steady and trusting, unlike the harsh waves that pull her under. Fingers, there’s fingertips tracing circles into her skin, slow and steady, reassuring and kind. Wood; there’s the cold wood of the hallway underneath her knees, digging against her bones, and it’s the pain that lessens the hold of the vision.

Her next breath isn’t as labored.

“Good! Now smell.”

Cinnamon; the comforting and promising scent of warm ovens and the aroma envelops her like the embrace of a friend, of a lover. Leather; the sharp tang of creaking material. Gasoline; the tainted smell that reminds her of oil on her fingertips, not the blood of her family.

“You’re doing so well Katie, you’re so close.”

_ Hunk. _

“Come back to me.”

She fights her way to the surface, fingertips skimming warm air instead of freezing water.

_ She’s close. _

“Taste.”

Metal; the biting flavor that floods her mouth; she must have bitten her tongue. Peach; the chapstick she applied. Chocolate; the sweep of sweetness against her tongue from the cup that sits on the floor.

She gasps, and her first thought is the warmth around her, strong arms that lift pans of baked bread and her own body that night they danced and forgot the world around them. Then he’s there, holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, cradling her to his chest. Her breathing slows, his arms tighten in the hug, and she somehow finds the strength to hug back.

Above her, he exhales. “I’m sorry for doing that; it wasn’t my intention to freak you out like that and I should have worded it better.”

Chin upon her head, she snuggles deeper into his chest and the hug becomes deeper as he keeps talking. “Do you need anything? I know panic attacks can be draining - I read up on them a few days ago, just say the word and-”

With a single finger, she cuts off his rambling and instead leans in to peck his lips. “Thank you, for everything.”

Nodding, Hunk holds her close as she returns to her original spot and with that, she doesn’t fight the urge to close her eyes. He begins to hum, a tune she’s never heard before and she’s content to drift off, safe in his arms.

When she wakes, it’s darker outside than before and she’s on the couch, cheek pressed against the cushions. From the kitchen, she can hear soft voices but tucks away her curiosity. Burrowing deeper into the blanket draped over her body, she finds herself drifting off.

From the kitchen, Hunk sticks his head out the doorway and smiles as he watches Katie sink further into the cushions. She needs her rest, badly, so he returns to his conversation with Keith and replays the sight of a freckled face peaceful with sleep.

She’ll be okay.

 

 

 

That summer, the entire gang decides to take a weekend off and Takashi rents a bus. Somehow, they all squeeze into it and settle down for the hours-long drive that’ll eventually spit them out at the beach.

In the front seat, Takashi drives steadily past windmills and rest stops and throughout it all, Allura holds his hand over the middle. She goes from paging through her book to playing i-spy with Lance as he grows tired of the same stretch of highway, and starts to poke at Keith.

Keith, who was up late like the idiot he is and is now snoring softly with his head against the window. He had argued loudly with Lance for the spot and when he finally won, he had smirked before putting in his earbuds.

Lance pouts the entire time, arms crossed and slouching because  _ it’s not fair Keith got the window seat, he doesn’t deserve it because he’s sleeping  _ and they roll their eyes.

Around hour three, they pass a rest stop and Lance informs them that he needs to go. Takashi tells him to wait and within minutes they’re at the next one. Allura’s cousin hops out of the bus, humming the entire time - a song from the latest musical he’s obsessed with, Katie figures it’s from the movie they saw the weekend before - and they clamor out after him, stretching their legs.

While they wait for Takashi and Lance, Hunk unearths a frisbee and makes friend with a Cocker Spaniel lounging in the grass near her owner and the two begin a game. Off to the side, Katie giggles quietly at her boyfriend as she lays in the grass and inhales the scent of sunshine and dirt.

Is this happiness?

Lady - the Cocker Spaniel - barks excitedly and takes off after the frisbee to the sound of Hunk’s laughter.

She sure thinks so.

The sun is warm against her face, dirt cool under her back and the slight breeze hints at the sea water they’re growing closer to with every mile.

“Yo, did you guys see Lance come out?”

Cracking open her right eye, Katie sees Takashi’s shoes stop shy of her leg and she sits up, brushing dirt from her pants as she sighs. “Nope. You sure he’s not in there?”

Allura’s husband nods. “I looked under the stalls and did a lap around the building. He wasn't there. His phone went to voicemail when I tried.”

Katie tells Hunk, who tells Matt, who tells Allura and soon they’re all searching, calling Lance’s name. She’s climbing aboard the bus to tell Keith to wake up and help them look when she stops dead and barks out a laugh.

Lance shushes her quickly, sending her the stink eye as he stacks another pretzel on Keith’s forehead which is tilted backwards against the window. How the idiot hasn’t woken up she doesn’t know but he’s always been an infuriatingly heavy sleeper.

“If you wake him up I’ll steal your eyeliner again and this time I’ll actually do what I threatened to do with it.”

She slips into the seat in front of him. “You wouldn’t dare, Lance McClain.”

“Try me.”

In a few minutes, they’re back on the road and Allura scolds Lance for only a minute until she gambles away some of his pretzels and begins her own stack on Keith’s beat up iPod.

In the back row, Katie rests her head on Hunk’s shoulder and to the monotonous sound of the tires on the highway plus Allura and Lance’s devious whispers, she closes her eyes. Hunk is welcome warmth next to her and when they go over a bump not a few minutes later, he carefully places his palm on her cheek so her head won’t knock against the back window.

Lance smirks back at them but Hunk doesn’t notice as he brushes the hair from in front of Katie’s face and admires the sunlight that comes through the window against her freckles.

“Hypocrite.”

Hunk startles, looking up and there’s Lance, turned all the way around in his seat as Allura continues to stack snack after snack on Lance’s almost-boyfriend.

“Shut up.”

Lance continues, smirking confidently the entire time, voice dropping to mimic his best friend’s. “ _ Lance, you should tell Keith how you feel! I bet he feels the same; you two are just never looking when the other is staring lovingly at you- _ ”

With a laugh, Hunk cuts him off. “Oh no, you’ve exposed me! I admit, I am a total fraud and a sham!”

From the front of the small bus, Takashi looks in the rearview mirror and grins. “Finally he admits it!”

Hunk roars mockingly as Lance laughs clear and high and with her eyes closed, Katie smiles imperceptibly before burying her face in her boyfriend’s chest.

If this is happiness, she’ll gladly trade anything to stay in this moment for the rest of her life.

 

 

 

“Can you do my back? I can’t seem to ah - reach it.”

Katie looks up from her book to smile at Hunk who towers over her, smiling sheepishly. In one hand he holds a sunscreen bottle and in the other is his shirt, and she freezes, mouth suddenly and inexplicably dry.

They’ve been dating for two months and although there’s been nights where hands linger under shirts and fingertips skirt over hems, she’s never seen him without one.

She regrets him not divulging him of his shirt sooner.

Katie knows Hunk works out - knows that reasonably, that his trips to the gym combined with all his baking would equal him being fit - but she never imagined  _ this _ . He’s not shredded like those people on bodybuilding shows and on the front of magazine covers but the way his muscles shift with every movement makes her want to drag him back to the bus when no one’s around.

She swallows thickly, laying down her book and hoping her floppy sunhat and sunglasses hide the blush she  _ knows _ is there because it’s warm today but it’s not  _ this _ hot.

“Sure thing, big guy.”

Holding out her hand for the bottle, her and Hunk switch places, him sitting on the lounge chair and she standing behind him. The cap of the bottle is a sharp sound that is shared only between them and the noise is stolen by the hollers and laughter from the waves.

She hesitates for only a single second before her palm touches his bare back.

Hunk sucks in a breath - small, fleeting - and she gulps as she begins to spread the cream across the sculpted planes of his back. Underneath her skin, his muscles ripple as he tenses and she repeats the circular movement until they begin to relax.

The minutes bleed together and their next kiss smells of sunscreen and salty air.

Maybe Lance teases Hunk for the clear handprint on his chest, outlined by the cream. Maybe Allura smiles slyly at her before settling back into her book, mercifully not mentioning how one of Katie’s suit straps is crooked.

All too soon though, the sun is dipping low in the sky and the group splits into two, heading to the bathrooms to change. There’s sand everywhere - matting hair, in between toes, in the crevices of their skin and clothes - and Alejandra wrinkles her nose at it.

“I hate sand.”

Both start giggling uncontrollably before they’re able to finish the iconic line.

From outside the bathroom, there’s a banging on the door and Lance’s voice floats through the windows. “Ladies, as much as I’d like to hear you nerd out about the best movies in cinematic history, someone’s husband is itching to get going because if we want to swing by the local ice cream shop before it closes, we gotta hit the road.”

The two are still giggling when they exit the bathroom, and after they have ice cream, Hunk and Takashi take turns driving for long stretches of highway. Katie finds herself huddled next to Allura, the two having some much-needed “girl time”, and that’s when Takashi’s wife leans close and whispers the good news into her ear.

Katie screeches excitedly, throws her arms around the woman and swears she’s never been this happy and she knows she’ll never be again.

“Don’t squish my wife!” Takashi calls from the front of the bus, and his eyes are sparkling when he winks at her. Katie sticks her tongue back out at him and pulls Allura closer, and her husband laughs.

The groaning from Lance shuts them up for the next few miles until Alejandra looks over at her, mischief dancing over her lips and they spend the entire rest of the trip slowly repositioning Lance and Keith.

Her cousin’s loud sputters when the bus comes to a stop in front of his apartment as he finds himself snuggled into Keith’s chest is nothing compared to the uproarious laughter behind him.

“This means war,” he promises lowly, sending his cousin a death glare and she blows a kiss back at him as he retrieves his bag from the trunk.

“I would be disappointed if it didn’t,” she shoots back and he’s climbing off the bus, wishing Hunk goodbye when her voice makes her turn back around.

“Hey Lance?”

He looks back at her and she smirks. “Might want to take a cold shower when you get inside.”

Katie falls back on Allura, giggling as Lance raises a single finger towards his cousin and exits the bus, a fiery blush overtaking his entire face.

Keith sulks the rest of the way to the apartment.

 

 

 

The rest of the summer passes quickly - filled with shopping sprees and painting parties as they prepare the nursery for the incoming baby - and it’s all the more crushing when they get the call in the middle of the night.

Everyone shows up at the hospital and takes turns sitting at Allura’s bedside as they force Takashi to go home and change, eat, shower. For the first day, she’s in and out of consciousness by the doctor’s doing, and waking is no better. Katie’s there when she wakes for the first time in hours and her best friend does nothing but rest her hand on her stomach and stare numbly at the ceiling.

Neither one cries when the doctors lay it out for them, apologizing for things out of their control.

_ Threatened Miscarriage,  _ one doctor tells them.  _ Poor girl,  _ another whispers in the hall.

The bags under the couple’s eyes grow darker with each week and three days later, Allura’s allowed to go home. Later that night, Takashi calls them and brittlely asks the entire group to come over and paint over the nursery.

No one blames either of them when neither comes to check on their progress. They all stay up half the night, quietly rolling cream over the blue and purple nebulas and constellations that dot the walls.

Alejandra converts the tiny room into an office and Takashi finds her in it often, staring at the far wall.

The couple isn’t the only one devastated.

Winter is upon them, cold and unforgiving and the short three-foot walk to the tea shop next door chills Katie to the bone. She’s shivering as she pushes open the door, scarf covering more than half her face and she waves to Allura’s uncle before ducking through the curtain in the back.

The stairs to the upstairs apartment are nicer than hers - they’re carpeted and don’t squeak when she sets her foot down. The door doesn’t stick when she inserts her key, twists it and lets herself into the dark apartment.

She sets down her bag at the counter, the setup of the apartment almost a carbon copy of theirs next door, and reaches for the light switch. Katie sets a kettle of tea on the stove and wanders through the flat before coming to a stop at the last bedroom.

“Go away, Takashi.”

Katie turns the knob. “Not Takashi.”

The lump of blankets barely moves and something in her heart breaks for her friend. Just four months ago her friend was vibrant, radiating happiness with every movement and now she’s isolating herself in the stuffy darkness of her bedroom.

Takashi tells her that she barely sleeps anymore, just stares out the window.

In the kitchen, the kettle whistles and she leaves the bedroom. Pouring the water into a mug, she measures out loose leaves from one of the glass jars above the stove, one of Allura’s favorites if she remembers right, and drops the infuser into the water.

Setting the mug on the tray to her right, she pulls a pan off the rack above the island.

The rest of the morning is routine. A month after the miscarriage, Takashi went back to the garage and helped Keith with the orders that had begun to pile up.

_ Takashi twists his hands within each other, eyes pleading. “Can I ask you guys a favor? I know it sounds stupid but with me gone and her mental state I’m scared to leave her alone for hours on end in an empty apartment-” _

_ Lance cuts him off, grabbing his hands and cutting off his brother-in-law’s rant. “Of course we’ll check in on her.” _

_ Katie smiles softly, and beside her, Hunk nods. He sets his hand on her shoulder, addressing Takashi. “We’ll take intervals.” _

The lump on the bed hasn’t moved an inch when she walks back in. Setting the tray down on the nightstand, she cracks open the book from her bed and settles into the chair by the bed.

Katie clears her throat, licks the pad of her finger, and begins to read.

_ "It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest that the lights in his house failed to go on one Saturday night — and, as obscurely as it had begun, his career as Trimalchio was over…” _

 

 

 

The end of the winter and beginning of spring coaxes Alejandra from her isolation and for the first time in months, the sun hits her face.

Katie knows the sharp curve of her cheekbones and quick cut of her bones through her almost translucent skin is normal for someone who’s lived in darkness for months on end, yet it still worries her. Takashi is as broken down as his wife, but instead of burying himself in blankets, he drowns himself in work.

She’ll come home from closing up at work, past midnight when she walks in, and it won’t be uncommon to find the workshop dark except for a single overhead light.

But with the warm afternoons, the season brings the promise of new beginnings. Alejandra sits at the counter, Takashi goes to bed before midnight, they hold their breath.

That summer, breathing is tight. Every breath feels like it could topple all the progress their friends have made and the very topic of babies is avoided like the plague. One day, while they’re out, a woman strolls past them with a sling and Allura barely makes it to the bathroom before her breakfast reappears.

More than a year after that fated night, Alejandra calls Katie in a panic on a Saturday and she sprints down the stairs. Takashi is out for the weekend with Keith, Lance and Tsuyoshi for a little decompressing and her fingers shake when she tries to unlock the apartment.

Katherine practically kicks down the bathroom door.

“Allura! What’s wr-”

She’s on the floor, tears dripping onto her summer dress and she holds up a pregnancy test.

“ _ Oh _ , Aleja,” Katie whispers into the air and slides onto her knees on the cold tile floor. Holding her friend to her chest, she rocks back and forth as Alejandra sobs into her shoulder.

“If I lose this one I don’t know what’ll happen. I don’t think Takashi could take it,” she trails off.

_ I don’t think I could take it,  _ the air finishes for them.

Katherine Holt tightens her grip on Alejandra Shirogane and sends a quick prayer to the universe, to God, to whoever may be up there.

 

 

At 7:34 AM on the crisp morning of May 11th, after over fifteen hours of labor, Katherine Alexandria (who they will adoringly call Thea and whose middle name is in honor of Alejandra’s mother) Shirogane is born. She is wrinkly, red, covered in blood, screams like a banshee and Allura cries.

Four minutes later, at 7:38 AM, her twin brother, Alexander Keith (who gets the nickname Zane and whose middle name brings his namesake to tears) Shirogane is born into the world. After they’re both cleaned up, Takashi takes his daughter and cries as his wife drifts off to sleep with Thea’s little brother against her chest.

 

 

 

Thea’s first word is an enthusiastic  _ kit!  _ while Zane slaps his mother’s cheeks and whispers  _ dada  _ almost so quietly that they miss it. Alejandra throws her head back, laughing heartily as Takashi mock-scowls and takes the little boy. 

Katie bounces her namesake on her knee for a few minutes before letting her down and the little girl goes walking shakily to Hunk, who opens his arms and sweeps the little girl up into them.

Three weeks later, Zane takes his first step.

 

 

 

“Kit!”

Katie laughs loud and clear into the salt air before scooping up the little girl. Thea shrieks happily as she kicks her feet and Katie goes charging into the water.

“Down! Down!"

“You want down?” she asks, looking at Thea, and the toddler nods vehemently. She wiggles in her namesake’s arms but as soon as her feet touch the sand, she takes off running on wobbly legs.

“Thea! You tricked me!”

Giggling, she looks back at Katie, and subsequently runs right into Tsuyoshi’s waiting arms. The second Thea’s encompassed in his arms though, she throws her arms around his neck, squealing. “Hun help! Kit!”

Chuckling, Hunk holds her close and turns away from Katie, who pretends to grab at the little girl. Thea buries her face into Hunk’s chest and screams while laughing, and the couple pretends to fight over her.

Katie falls into the sand, laying still and above her, Hunk and Thea cheer. “We did it, Ea! We defeated her!”

Thea claps. “Yay! Kit!”

From the shade, Allura chuckles at her daughter. She’s lounging in the sand, floppy hat hiding her eyes, and head in her lap, Takashi naps peacefully. The two are a picture of marital bliss and Katie can see that to their left, Zane babbles on. He’s slapping the sand with his clumsy baby palms and Keith listens, solemnly nodding while patting sand into a wall for their sand castle.

A finger pokes her cheek and she giggles, closing her eyes again. Above her, she can hear Thea’s heavy breathing and her boyfriend trying - and failing - to hold back his mirth because while he knows she isn’t  _ defeated,  _ Thea is none the wiser.

With a shout, she shoots up and grabs the toddler, amidst the high-pitched squealing and flying sand around them. She slings Thea over her shoulder and spins, and Hunk’s face is threatening to split with how wide his mouth is stretched with his laugh.

“Stop terrorizing my daughter, Katherine Holt.”

She looks over at Takashi, eyes still closed and soaking up the warmth of the sunshine without being in it’s rays. Although she knows he won’t see it, she sticks her tongue out and Allura barks out a laugh, still running her fingers through her husband’s hair.

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Oh my  _ god _ , I’m not old.”

“Prove it,” she shoots back and on her shoulder, Thea  _ oohs _ .

“You asked for it, whippersnapper,” he growls and in a second, he kicks up sand. Alejandra sputters, now covered in the beach and Katie squeals with laughter. With Thea still on her shoulder, holding tightly, she takes off down the beach.

Through the crashing of the waves and the calling of the sea gulls, she hears Hunk chuckling and just the sound makes her heart warm. 

She  _ loves  _ him.

The thought stops her dead in her tracks and her feet sink into the wet sand. She’s on the edge of a precipice, teetering on her seat, because she  _ loves  _ him.

Katherine Holt loves Tsuyoshi Garrett. 

She loves his sunshine-warm smile, his petal-soft lips, his oven-calloused palms, his dandelion-kind personality. Tsuyoshi Garrett is the sun, radiating warmth and love and she feels like ice and winter, melting in his hands.

_ I get it now, mom. _

There’s arms around her waist, lifting her and she kicks her legs as Thea laughs, clapping her hands. Against her ear, Takashi laughs deeply and just that simple noise makes her entire body hum happily because almost three years ago, she had wondered if he ever would again.

Thea wiggles in her arms, making grabby hands at her dad, and Takashi takes her. He throws her up in the air once, twice, and her chest expands even further.

“Takashi Ryou Shirogane, if you drop my baby girl you’re sleeping on the couch for the next two decades and you can pay her college bill yourself.”

“Yes dear!” he calls, and winks at Katie, setting Thea down to play in the sand. “I think we should get back.”

Katie loops her arm through his and they meander towards the designated group spot with Thea kicking up sand as they go. With clumsy fingers, she bends and picks up small shells along the beach and hands them off to her dad, who serenely tucks them into his pockets.

By the time they get back to the group, Hunk is sprawled on the sand next to Keith and Zane and the toddler is sitting on his back, watching his namesake finish up the castle. Keith’s talking to the little boy and although Zane obviously isn’t listening, Katie sees the relaxed slope of his shoulders.

She sits down next to her boyfriend and finds herself drawing patterns in the sand on his arms. There’s a cheer and she looks out into the waves and smiles before waving. Lance is still out on his board, savoring the time he’s able to surf, and she’s glad he’s getting to do something he so loves but can’t do often.

Catching Hunk staring out at the waves, she remembers the second surfboard strapped to the top of the minivan Alejandra and Takashi now own, and nudges him. He turns his head to look at her, squinting at the sunlight and she smiles softly, carding her fingers through his ocean-tousled locks.

“Go, I’ll hang with Zane. You’ve spent enough time out of the water today.”

He props himself on his elbows to kiss her and his lips taste like sunlight and salt. When he pulls back, he admires how the light reflects on her freckles. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

Her heart  _ sings _ . She laughs as she takes the two-year old from off his back, drawing him into her lap. “Once or twice.”

Her boyfriend stands up, brushing the sand from his legs and leans down to kiss her again. This time, it tastes like love and ocean-air and she’s barely pulled back before he bounds off. Giggling at his antics, she watches him bounce across the sand, uproot his board from the sand and take off towards where the ocean waves to him.

_ Sometimes _ , she thinks, smiling,  _ he’s actually Moana. _

“Enjoying the view?”

Katie whirls on her surrogate brother, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Keith! There’s a child here!”

She slaps at his arm, affronted, and he laughs, rolling away. Zane makes grabby hands at the man, whining, and she sits up straight. “Don’t waste your tears on him, Alexi, he’s a dirty, dirty man who doesn’t deserve your affection.”

Keith pouts, reaching out again. “Aw, kit-kat, you don’t really mean that do you-”

She sniffs, turning her nose up. “I stand by what I said, try to refute it.”

Silence.

“I thought so.”

“Whatever she said Keith, she’s right. Don’t argue with her, she’ll steal all your shirts when you’re not looking and cut the nipples out of them.”

Katie gapes up at her biological brother as he drops into the sand next to her. “Matt! That was one time!”

“I’ll apologize when my shirts have nipples again,” Matt shrugs, leaning back in the sand and watching as Zane squirms in his sister’s arms. “Need help with him?”

She shakes her head, holding Zane tighter to her chest. “Not from you.”

“How about me?”

Rolling her eyes at Lance, she watches as the man sits down and starts rolling out his shoulders. He makes a face at Zane before laying back, shielding his eyes from the sun and groaning.

“ _ Ooh, _ on second note, maybe not. I feel like I just arm-wrestled a biologically-manipulated bear while riding a rodeo horse in a strip club.”

Katie gasps his name, slapping her hands over Zane’s ears while Matt just looks down at his prone form in the sand, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s oddly specific.”

Lance shrugs again, still with his eyes closed. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Anything you want to share with the group?”

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,” he shoots back and Katie just rolls her eyes again, looking down at the little boy in her arms.

“Don’t listen to your uncles, I’m pretty sure they were dropped when they were your age.”

Amidst the whines coming from both her surrogate brother’s boyfriend and her biological brother, she smirks down at Zane. Smiling gumily up at her, the little boy pats her cheeks with his palms as he babbles  _ keef keef keef  _ and she tries not to choke on her laughter.

Next to her, Keith sputters and turns to glare at his older brother as he cups his hands. “I wonder who taught him that!”

Takashi is lounging in the sand underneath the large beach umbrella, Thea perched on his chest while Alejandra sprays her down with sunscreen. “Guilty as charged,” he drawls, and Keith slips in his haste to get up.

He gets two steps.

“Keith Akira Kogane, if you get any sand on Thea after I’ve sprayed her down like this your shirts won’t be the only thing without nipples.”

He goes sheet-white, despite the pink hue to his skin and Lance starts chuckling while Matt completely loses it. Turning, Keith growls before launching himself at his boyfriend and Lance screeches as he’s tackled.

The two tumble around for a bit, hands locked and shaking with the effort of fighting the other one off and Katie shields the toddler from the up-kicked sand.

Finally coming to a stop, Lance is straddling Keith’s hips, leaning over him while smirking and his back is covered in sand. “I win,” he whispers, just loud enough for the rest of them to hear, and Matt whistles.

“I don’t know Lance, it looks like Keith’s the winner here.”

It takes a split-second for Lance to realize where he is and he freezes. Katie groans, knowing one of two things are about to happen; either Lance will blush and roll off or his boyfriend or he’ll smirk, wiggle his hips and Keith will melt into the sand as his blush goes darker.

It’s not the latter.

Slowly, a leer crosses Lance’s face and she resists the urge to drop her face into her hands. Underneath Lance, Keith realizes what’s about to happen and his face reddens.

“Oh really,” Lance drawls, gaze never moving from Matt as he circles his hips in punctilious circles, “are you sure about that?”

Matt gags dramatically as Lance guffaws loudly and Katie rolls her eyes.

_ Boys. _

“Lance, get off Keith before he burns up,” someone behind her chides, and she looks up to see Hunk grinning, hair dripping as he tucks his burnt-yellow surfboard under his arm.

“I tried to tell them,” she sighs mockingly and Hunk takes Zane from her arms, sitting down in the sand beside her. Sometime during the struggle, the sand castle’s south wall had collapsed and her boyfriend makes a mournful sound before tucking the toddler into his lap.

“You didn’t have to come in, I know how much you love surfing.”

“Surfing isn’t the only thing I love,” he says, smiling, and she can’t tell if the red of her skin is from the sun exposure or the blush.

Scooping up a handful of sand, he leans forward slightly and begins to rebuild the wall.

Her back is starting to burn under the sun’s rays but she’s willing to let her skin blister if she doesn’t have to move. Hunk’s firm body next to her, the sound of her brothers laughing - biologically and surrogate alike - in the background, she’s content to watch his hands methodically collect and sculpt sand.

 

 

 

The lights of the highway paint stripes across her boyfriend’s face as he sleeps - cheek against the window, his hand in hers - and she watches as it dances across the slope of his nose, curve of his cheekbones, the rise and fall of his lips’ bow.

His skin smells of the ocean, hair of salt and wind, palms soft like sunshine, and she leans against his side. He snorts in his sleep, shifting, and she tucks herself under his arm.

There’s no hesitation, even in his sleep, and his arm goes around her shoulders, holding her close. She inhales the underlying scent of  _ oven _ and  _ warmth _ and  _ Hunk _ , and finds herself buoying, chest cresting with breath like the waves she shared with him as he tried to teach her to surf.

Remembering the salt on his lips when she rode her first wave, she drifts off.

 

 

 

The twin’s second winter goes quickly, punctuated by sledding and the lazy building of snowmen. Last winter, Thea and Zane were still too young to enjoy the season, but now that they’re closing in on their third year, they spin clumsily and collapse in the snow. 

The next May, they celebrate with a party in the cafe, and Alejandra and her Uncle Cord - who the toddlers call Coran - close the building for the day. The entire group - Katie, Hunk, Keith, Lance, Matt, and even Florence and Phoebe show up, cooing over the twins as they smear cake on their faces and the tabletops.

The streamers hanging from the light fixtures over the tables they pushed together are yellow and red, the twin’s respective favorite colors and Katie finds herself leaning into Hunk’s side.

On the other side of the table, Keith smears a fingertip of frosting on his boyfriend’s nose and Lance laughs before doing the same to his lips, leaning in to kiss it away. When he pulls back, Keith’s face is bright red and Hunk chuckles.

“Stop scarring my young impressionable children with your kinks,” Takashi scolds playfully, wrestling with Thea who seems intent on spreading her cake on every surface her little arms can reach.

Lance scoffs.”Keith is lactose intolerant, first of all and second, that’s not even the half of it-”

Alejandra swats Lance’s arm before pinning both with a deadpan glare. “We don’t need details.”

Pouting, Lance turns back to his cake and Keith giggles quietly. Katie watches, chest warm, as he bumps Lance’s shoulder and the frown on his boyfriend’s face slips.

_ He deserves happiness _ , she thinks, and turns to talk to Phoebe who’s in the seat next to her.

 

 

 

She’s lounging on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels while laughing at her boyfriend’s exasperated texts when it happens. She’s just set down the remote to text him back when she happens to look up and her entire body clenches up, ice flooding her veins.

There, on her own television screen, is a picture of her father. 

It’s the same one her mother had - she doesn’t know if it’s still there, on her nightstand - and the one she keeps in the locket around her neck at all times. Her eyes roam over his face, so happy and carefree. He had been dressed in his uniform, ready for his last mission before retirement and her mother had insisted on taking a picture of their little girl with her father.

Amber eyes that once belonged to him reflect back at her.

Then the scene changes and a cry works its way up her throat as a line of text appears at the bottom.

_ FAMED PILOT AND MISSING FATHER SAMUEL HOLT FOUND DEAD OUTSIDE CITY LINES. _

She wants to cry, wants to  _ scream _ and  _ kick _ and  _ curse _ because although she knew this would come - she had come to terms with the fact her father, her protector and best friend when she was a child, was dead - it’s all too real, all at once.

Somehow, she gets to her room. She doesn’t remember how but it’s not important because the door of her closet hit the walls. Trembling fingers drop an iPhone and pick up something she hasn’t touched in four years.

A suitcase.

She’s done this before and it’s almost startlingly easy to block out the world around her to focus on the single task of packing up a life inside a bag. Two pairs of shoes, five blouses, five pants, whatever other space goes to essentials like dry shampoo and deodorant.

All too soon, the suitcase is full and when she looks up, she’s somehow fit almost her entire closet into a single bag.

_ Ironic how she can fit her possessions into a suitcase but not her heart. _

Her heart is not the only thing she’s leaving behind. She’s so tired of running.

Yet here she is, bag slung over her shoulder, looking back at the apartment she’s made her home and her family in. In that moment, she feels like crying all over again because she promised herself she wouldn’t get attached but she did exactly that and these are the consequences. She got comfortable. It’s been years, and she thought herself safe, but here they are again.

She thought leaving her mother would be enough to deter them; she thought driving across borders and countries on a motorcycle that broke down on a rainy night in a tiny town in Ireland would be enough, but her father’s body is outside the city limits.

They’re still coming.

She drops the house keys in the bowl, picks up her canvas bag, guitar case and motorcycle keys.

Closes the door. The lock clicks with finality and just the simple action makes the tears burning in her eyes that much real. The stairs creak under the weight of her body and the significance of what she’s about to do.

Inside the apartment a phone discarded on the couch buzzes, the screen lighting up, but there’s no answer and a few inches away, a breeze from the fan overhead picks at the edges of a piece of paper.

 

 

 

Keith’s laughing at something Lance said, staring at him fondly when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Frowning, he holds up a finger to stop his boyfriend from continuing his story. “Hold on babe.”

Without looking at the contact’s number, he brings the device to his ear. “Hello?”

His little sister’s boyfriend sounds frantic on the other end. “I’m so sorry to bother you and Lance because I know you’re out on a date but Katie’s not picking up her phone and texting back and I just turned on the n-”

_ “Hunk!” _ The man stops, and Keith reigns in his irritation. “Breathe, man, she probably just fell asleep or someth-“

“Samuel Holt’s body was found outside the city limits half an hour ago.”

Dread rises in his throat, threatening to choke him, and maybe he drops the phone. He doesn’t know what his face looks like but it must be awful because Lance is reaching for him, eyes frantic, asking if he’s okay. All Keith can do is breathe because even though they knew her father was probably dead, it’s Katie’s twenty-fifth birthday, and  _ they _ have returned.

“Lance, we need to go.  _ Now _ .”

There’s no hesitation in his lover’s eyes.

They leave the bill on the table and they’re in the car, tires squealing as he peels out of their parking spot. Racing towards the side of town where the garage is nestled and the apartment that sits on top of it is -  _ was _ \- home, his hand never leaves Lance’s.

The garage door is open.

“Keith!”

Her bike is gone.

He jumps out of the car before even turning it off. Sprinting across the first floor, his shaking hands find the doorway that leads up the stairs. The ancient steps creak under his feet as he thunders up them, not even bothered to try and keep quiet like usual. His fingertips tremble when he pulls his keys from his pocket.

The keys clank together, adding to the chaos of his mind, and he almost drops them before a hand wraps around his and pulls them from his grasp. He whirls on Lance, ready to scream because  _ he has to get inside _ ,  _ has to make sure his little sister is okay _ , but his boyfriend just slides them into place and turns the knob.

He doesn’t even register the pain in his shoulder when he throws himself against the door in his haste to get inside. Cursing the sticky lock when he stumbles into the foyer, it takes exactly three seconds for him to register that something’s missing. The apartment, usually littered with Katie’s bottles of smoothies and the sound of her laughter, is empty. He’s only partially breathing when he staggers down the hallway, ignoring the lack of his sister in the living room.

Her bedroom door is closed and he spills into the room.

The closet is open, gaping like a mouth for him to see there’s nothing in it. No clothes, no jeans, no shoes, and most importantly, the suitcase Katie had when she crashed into their lives is gone. The ukulele Hunk handmade her for her birthday a year ago and the case is gone as well. 

In an instant, his breath leaves him all at once.

She’s not here.

She’s gone, running again, and something in his chest aches the first time a sob makes its way up his throat, but he  _ understands. _

Warm arms wrap around him, whispering reassurances into his ear as he slides to the floor. Lance’s fingertips dance across his palm, leaving behind a pain he can’t register and a piece of paper that crinkles when he squeezes his hand.

 

 

 

_ Keith, _

_ I’m sorry. I told myself four years ago I wouldn’t get attached, but I did, and now they’re back. _

_ I’m so tired of running, but if I don’t, they’ll come for you too and I won’t let your happiness fall apart because of mistakes I’ve made. So I’ll destroy my own happiness - I never deserved it anyway, never deserved someone as loving and kind as Tsuyoshi - so you can keep yours. _

_ You’ve been my brother for four years, and you’ll continue to be my brother regardless of what happens. You and Takashi have done so much for me, and I can never repay you for everything you’ve done. _

_ Please tell Hunk that no matter what, I love him. Tell him everything. _

_ Tell them all everything. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Katie _

 

 

For the first two weeks, they don’t sleep.

Everyone from Takashi and Matt to Mrs. Ryner and Tyler Theodore’s parents help them scour the town and the ones outside the borders for any sign of Katie, and even though they all know in the back of their minds that she’s not there, they search regardless.

Keith refuses to believe the note that Katie leaves behind as her own but despite Coran’s best investigating, there’s no evidence of her being kidnapped or murdered, so they’re stuck.

On the first day of the third week, he takes a deep breath and fulfills Katie’s last wish.

He tells them everything.

Eventually, they stop searching.

The fight between a weary Takashi and an angry Keith when he finds out his older brother has called off the search rages for  _ hours  _ as he fights back against letting Katie go. He refuses to believe that she’s just  _ gone. _

He disappears that night, and when Lance calls up Hunk in a panic, he finds his friend isn’t answering his phone either. Frightened, the next place he goes is the café next to his boyfriend’s garage, and when he knocks on the door, a sleep-rumpled Takashi answers it.

“Lance? _Wha_ \- what are you doing? It’s two in the morning.”

From behind him, further into the apartment, a weary voice floats out. “Who’s there, love?”

“It’s Lance, darling,” Takashi says, and Allura appears, yawning, tying a knot in her robe as she approaches. When she sees him, her eyes grow a little more focused, a little sharper. “What are you doing here, Lance? Is everything oka-“

“Keith’s gone and I can’t get ahold of Hunk either.”

His brother in law’s eyes grow wide and in a swift movement, the keys to his truck are in hand. Behind him, Alejandra slips her flats on, holding onto the wall for support. “I’m coming with you too.”

“Allura.”

She brushes past him, shaking her head. “Keith’s my brother too, Takashi. I’m going. Coran can stay with the twins.”

Lance and Takashi exchange looks as his wife moves past them, and the poor man drags his prosthetic over his face before nodding. “Right, okay then.”

 

 

Coran traces their phones from his laptop while watching his niece and nephew sleep, and the three of them find them in a bar three miles away.

They’re at the countertop, silent, knocking back shot after shot of whiskey.

They both hate whiskey.

Prying the two of them from the shot glasses is the hardest thing Lance has ever done. Both have death-like grips on the tiny cups and on the way home, secrets drip from alcohol-loose lips. Hunk leans against him in the car ride home as Keith does the same on the other side. The silence in the truck is palpable and it’s broken by a watery hiccup.

“It tasted like our last kiss,” and while Takashi and Allura exchange a look in the front seats, Hunk continues, “and I didn’t know it was.”

“It smelled like our first conversation. When she cried” - Keith buries his face in Lance’s favorite shirt - “and told me everything.”

When they finally reach the apartment building, somewhere Hunk hasn’t been in weeks, Lance ignores the whining of his beloved. Hunk needs him. 

“Make sure he gets in bed alright, Takashi, please?”

His cousin’s wife nods once, firmly, and looks back at his younger brother. Lance can  _ feel _ the heartbreak in the air as he watches his brother fiddle with his fingers, teary-eyed before laying down in the back seat.

As he fumbles with the keys, Tsuyoshi hiccups into Lance’s ear that he didn’t tell her he loved her that morning when he left for work. That he lied about being at work that night, but she didn’t know that, and if he had just come home after work,  _ she wouldn’t have been alone. _

Lance hugs his best friend tighter in the dark and is doomed to watch him retreat further inside himself with every passing day.

 

 

 

She clutches her notebook as she watches the clouds part through the window.

The seat she booked for her first flight out of Ireland was direct to Paris and her wallet feels it. Paying for a trip from one country to another is a hefty price and she had done so in cash, digging into the fund she kept beneath her bed in case something like this happened and she had to disappear  _ again _ .

For the first month, she laid low in seedy hotels and only used payphones in busy places in bustling cities. Baseball caps became her best friend and dying her hair a dirty blonde makes her feel like she’s someone else. So when she meets the man in the apartment above the deli shop on the fifth day of her second month of running, she lies when he asks the name to put on the driver’s license.

She presses an envelope into his hand, watching his face light up, and he hands her the identification papers that will allow her to start over. He’s not much younger than her, she observes, and she wants to call him out on what he’s doing but the words stick in her throat.

_ Hypocrite,  _ her brain hisses.

She pockets the card and the apartment door clicks shut behind her.

Her converse echo on the stairs leading back down to the alleyway and when she reaches the bottom, she has a sudden moment of weakness. Her vision swirls and groaning, she leans against the wall. Resting her forehead against the cold brick, her thought process throws her off the deep end she’s been struggling to stay above.  _ What is she doing? _

_ What’s necessary,  _ she bites back, and straightens her jacket before taking a deep breath.

The walk to the hotel is short and the ride to the airport is even shorter. Squaring her shoulders, she pushes through the doors and walks up to the first desk she sees.

“One ticket to Trelleborg, Sweden please.”

 

 

 

A thousand and some miles away, Tsuyoshi Garett tosses and turns in a bed that’s now empty and lies silent in Ireland.

A thousand and some miles away, Kaitlynn Holdt climbs off a plane and breathes in the fresh air of a new beginning in Sweden.

The baggage turntable spins in slow circles that she ignores as she grabs her things and makes her way to the opposite wing of the airport. Card clutched in hand that will allow her to pick up her motorcycle from the terminal, she keeps her head down and walks briskly across the gleaming tiles. A small rolling suitcase in one hand, canvas bag slung over her shoulder and her guitar case strapped across her back, she tries not to think of what she’s left behind.

She wonders how her family is doing.

Pushing open the door of the building, she closes her eyes, letting the cold air of the new beginning soak into her forest-green leather jacket. The waiting attendant is a tall boy with dark skin and freckles and the similarity sends lightning and longing through her veins.

She misses him.

She misses Keith’s boisterous laugh at her corny jokes, Takashi’s smirk when he threw her over his shoulder, Lance’s late-night beauty sessions when they would watch Disney movies and do nails when she was too stressed. She misses Allura’s chicken noodle soup when she wasn’t feeling good and the fond look on Hunk’s face when she presented him with breakfast in bed for the first time on his birthday.

The bacon had been burnt, blackened in many places and crumbling in others but he had smiled and ate it anyway. The pancakes were out of a box - she thought  _ how on earth could she mess those up _ (spoiler alert: somehow she did) but he didn’t say a thing. The orange juice was the only thing she thought came out edible (not because it was out of a carton or anything) but he had swept her into his arms and kissed her like she made him the finest breakfast in the world.

She misses Thea’s toothless smile and high-pitched giggles when she made silly faces at her in the backseat of the car. She misses Zane’s tiny palm gripping her finger, so tightly even in sleep, refusing to let her go.

It wasn’t enough. 

She ducks her head, willing away the tears that have gathered in her eyes without permission.

She misses  _ all of them. _

There’s a sudden cold wind and she can’t tell if it’s real or not. Pulling her jacket closer around her body, she secures her baggage to the back of her bike. Clicking the helmet, she looks at her new phone one more time, knowing the whole time there won’t be a text from Hunk. She didn’t leave the number of her new phone.

Straddling the bike and twisting the advance, Kaitlynn takes off into the evening night.

She drives until the lights of the city glow brighter and it’s only after she passes three blocks of store fronts and row houses that she slows her bike. Right in the heart of the city sits a little bed and breakfast she’s made reservations in and she parks her bike before pushing open the door.

With a smile, the girl at the counter presses a key into her hand and wishes her a good night.

The climb to the second floor is a little hard with her baggage but she unlocks the door and drops her things immediately, flopping down on the bed.

Despite being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city, it doesn’t take long for Kaitlynn Holdt to drift off.

The alarm on her phone goes off the next day at nine, and it’s with a groan she pulls herself from the comforters and shuffles into the bathroom. Her room is quaint; a queen bed against one wall, a desk against the other and a small closet in the corner. The carpet is soft beneath her socked feet and the bathroom is a good size.

It’s later that day that she wanders downstairs to grab a quick bite before venturing out into the new city. There’s people everywhere, on the sidewalks and in the streets and she finds her quick reflexes to come in handy.

It’s the perfect place to hide, right in plain sight.

She spends the rest of the day scoping out apartments. The storefronts are pushed close to together and lopsided, giving the city a feeling of homeliness and she appreciates that.

As the sun sets, that she finds what she’s been looking for. She knows that while she could have called a taxi or taken her bike to get there much quicker, she likes to wander.

The neon lights of the tattoo shop cast shadows onto the wet sidewalk and she takes a minute to breathe in the evening air before climbing the two steps to the glass door. It swings inwards her and when she steps inside, the smell of chemicals greets her.

It’s not home, but it’s close enough.

At the jingle of the bell above the door, a girl at the front desk looks up from a magazine and raises a pierced eyebrow at her, smiling as she pops her bubblegum. Despite the high line of her sleeveless shirt, Kaitlynn can see the stem of some flower peeking out from behind her neck and on her shoulder.

“Hi, I called a few days ago and talked to the owner of the building? He said he had an open position for a tattoo artist.”

The girl’s smile grows wider and friendlier at that. “Oh, you must be Kaitlynn!”

Her returning smile isn’t as wide, but it’s still there. “That’s me.”

“Well, I’m Likhitha, but my friends call me Lily, and welcome to Tickled Ink! I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says, still smiling wide and white as she rounds the desk and extends her hand. A small smile finds its place on her cheeks as she Lillian’s hand. 

“Hi Lily, I’m Kaitlynn, but you can call me Kate if you’d like.”

 

 

 

For the first few weeks after that, Kate lives with Lily. Her apartment is on the fifteenth floor of the Green Cube Apartment Complex - a clean energy building - which resides in the heart of the city, and she finds herself warming to the woman.

Bouncing, Lily sets down the suitcase on the twin bed and turns with a sheepish smile at the girl behind her. “Sorry about the tiny room, Kat. I didn’t have much money when I moved here and this was the cheapest apartment I could find-”

Shaking her head, Kaitlynn props her ukulele case against the wall and pats her friend’s shoulder. “It’s perfect, thank you for letting me stay with you until I can get my own apartment.”

So, four months later, when she finally has enough money saved up to buy her own place, she buys the apartment that’s open on the floor directly above Lily’s. The apartment building is pet-friendly and even though her apartment is only a few rooms, she goes out that same day and comes home with a fluffy little kitten. 

The American Bobtail - affectionately named Rufus - has tufts on the ends of his ears and spends the first few days wobbling around the two rooms.

Three days after purchasing the apartment and moving her furniture around, Lily comes over for a housewarming party. There’s two sharp knocks on the door and Kate stops chopping carrots to wipe her hands on her jeans and swing the door open.

Lily’s older brother, Jhinook, says a few words to her the entire time but his smile when he sees Rufus is enough to make Katie happy that Lily brought him along. At the end of the night, the smile on her new friend’s face is worth it when Jhinook offers her a hug and she accepts.

Katherine Holt is the one that hugs him back.

Maybe she’ll learn to live here.

 

 

One year later, on the day Katie Holt first crashed her way into his life - and then slipped out of it - Keith Akira Kogane opens Motor & Cycle to a package on the front step.

There’s no return address, no note, no clues to who it could be from, but when he breaks the tape, his fingertips trace over the dark wooden box. Eyes locked on the box, he closes the door and finds himself kneeling on the hard concrete. Trembling fingertips lift the top and he almost cries because there, nestled in tissue paper, are two lockets. Hesitantly taking one of the necklaces from its place in the fragile wrapping, he pushes his thumb’s fingernail into the sliver of space between the two sides and cracks it open.

In one panel, there’s a tiny picture of a sidewalk, glistening with rain and reflecting neon lights of a shop he can’t make out the name to, and in the other, there’s a piece of paper.

_ Should he read it? _

Exercising a level of self-restraint he doesn’t even know he has, Keith puts the locket back. As much as he wants to tear open the paper and soak in every inked word, read every letter that spells out why she left and how she’s doing, he calls his brother instead as he climbs the stairs back to where his lover sleeps peacefully.

“I’m really sorry, Takashi, but we need to meet.  _ Everyone _ needs to meet.”

His brother’s voice is sleep-stained on the other end, “What happened?” and Keith looks down at the box in his hands. 

“I think Katie’s sent us a package.”

Takashi’s breath hitches as he sits up. “Keith what - are you serious?” But the other end of the phone call is quiet and the beeping signifies his little brother has already hung up, so he sighs and drags a hand down his face.

A quick glance at his wife reveals she’s still out, platinum hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo, and he’s glad because she deserves all the sleep she can get. He can’t help but press a quick kiss to her cheek, smiling fondly down at her when she scrunches her nose and shifts before he slides out of bed and grabbing his prosthetic.

Padding to the next room over, he peers over the beds that sit opposite to each other in the space-swirled nursery. He stares down at his babies - who aren’t babies anymore, almost five - and a warmth grows larger in his chest the longer he stays. As much as he’d like to stay here and just watch Thea suck her thumb and Zane babble still in his sleep, he has to go.

The door clicks shut behind him and Katherine Alexandria Shirogane and her twin brother Alexander Keith Shirogane sleep on.

 

 

 

Keith has to shake his boyfriend awake, because as much as he wants to let Lance sleep - this doesn’t concern him as much and he only has to come if he wants to - but he’s the only one that can get through to Hunk.

He shakes his head; he’s been through so much. That night, a year ago today, when Hunk had called them in a panic, he had been at the local jewelry store. Keith’s chest aches when he thinks of his face and how fast it fell when Lance called him and told him what had happened.

 

 

 

Across the city, in an apartment where the sun ray’s haven’t quite reached yet, the windows are already lit and burn with the determination of someone who’s lost something.

_ Pressing kisses to freckled cheeks. _

The dough is putty in his hands, soft and pliable.

_ Ginger hair between his fingertips. _

He slams it onto the counter and the flour clouds around his face, settling on his clothes.

_ A laugh that makes his knees weak. _

The heels of his hands knead into the dough.

_ He never wants to hear any other sound for the rest of his life. _

Rolling his palms into the mix, he sprinkles more flour onto the top.

_ A phone on the couch. _

His eyebrows knit.

_ An empty closet. _

He slams the dough into the counter.

_ A handwritten note. _

_ The empty space in his bed. _

_ A hollow noise in his chest with each breath. _

He doesn’t notice when he finally starts crying but his hands are finger-deep in dough and he’s shaking when he slides to the ground. The batter smears across his sleeves when he clutches at his own arms in the hope that it’ll fill the part of him that’s empty, gaping open.

_ A velvet case sitting on her pillow, unopened and as cold as the sheets. _

On the counter, his phone rings.

He leaves it be.

 

 

 

An hour later, there’s a knock on the door.

When there’s no answer, Lance’s eyebrows knit. He’s tempted to knock down the door - he’s such an idiot, he forgot his keys - but instead grabs his phone. Punching in his best friend’s number, he brings the device to his ear and prays. 

Inside, Hunk’s phone rings, but the sound echoes around the space and after a few seconds, it goes quiet and the panic that rises in his chest is indescribable. 

_ Where is he? _

Three more calls and more pounding reveal nothing but their neighbor yelling at him to keep it down, and with every knuckle against the door and fingertip on his best friend’s contact the anxiety eating at his lungs grows larger and larger.

“Lance?”

His forehead is against the door but at the sound of his name, he turns to see his neighbor, Jeremy, closing his door behind him. “Everything okay, man? Remi and Vinn are threatening to call the landlord if you don’t quiet down. Did you forget your keys again?”

He stays silent and chooses instead to plant his back against the door and slide down until he’s sitting on the floor, head in his hands. A few moments later, his neighbor joins him. “Is this about that girl that left a year ago?” 

Lance’s head snaps up, and he looks at the man next to him with surprise. Jeremy chuckles, shrugging. “It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. These walls are really thin.”

Sighing, he nods. “She left for...personal reasons and he’s never quite been the same, and I haven’t been there for him like I should have. He’s holed himself up in the apartment and hasn’t talked to any of us in a couple of days.”

He shakes his head, dropping it back into his hands. “I totally forgot the date. Is that awful of me? Because I feel like a terrible person.”

Jeremy sets a hand on his shoulder and when Lance looks back up, he’s smiling reassuringly. “That doesn’t make you an awful person. What makes you an awful person is up and leaving the people who love you without a single word.” 

By the frown on his neighbor’s face, Lance guesses he knows and is upset with someone he’s never met.

Honestly? He doesn’t blame him.

In the time it took for Allura and Shiro to get married (and even after that), Lance had grown close with Katie - not as close as Hunk or Keith - but enough that he enjoyed her company and thought of her as his own little sister. He had stayed up with her on nights they couldn’t sleep and had put her on his shoulders when they went to concerts and she couldn’t see.

Irritation at her, something he didn’t even know he had, bubbles in his gut. Groaning, he pushes it down because that isn’t what he needs right now. “Yeah, I guess,” he sighs, looking down, and Jeremy pats his shoulder, standing up and brushing off his jeans.

His neighbor holds out his hand and Lance takes it, allowing him to pull him to his feet. “I’ll go grab the spare.”

Lance flashes his friend a smile. “Thanks.”

Disappearing back inside his apartment, Jeremy rummages around in his bowl and Lance dials Hunk’s number one more time. This time, the phone doesn’t ring - he’d probably guess it’s dead - but his eyebrows furrow. He presses an ear to the door, focusing as hard as he can to block out the sounds of the neighbors laughing and the stairs creaking above him, and swears he can hear the plucking of guitar strings.

Jeremy appears, keys in hand, eyebrow quirked when Lance gestures for him to press his ear against the door and listen. He does, and the two share a look when Jeremy’s eyes grow wide. “I hear it too. What’s he doing?”

Lance slides the spare key into the lock and turns it to the right. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The apartment is dark, the only light spilling from the crack in the swinging door that leads from the kitchen, so Lance follows it. He waves behind him to show Jeremy it’ll be okay, and his neighbor nods. 

The countertop, usually immaculate if not carrying a fresh-baked loaf or pastry, is covered in bits of dough and flour.

When he rounds the corner of the island, he swerves and narrowly misses the deflated piece of pastry that sits defeated on the tiles. It’s fallen in towards the middle, telling him that Hunk never got around to kneading it properly and putting it in the oven, and the  _ incompleteness _ breaks his heart because his best friend never does things in halves.

Hunk doesn’t like leaving things incomplete; whether that be his baking or a puzzle or a friendship. He reads books until the end, when he returns them to the library. He follows the recipe to a t until it’s out of the oven, when he offers it to anyone around him. He learns about people until they’ve told him their life story, when he smiles and shares his.

_ God, _ he thinks, picking his way to the other side of the kitchen,  _ how did it all go downhill so quickly? _

The door squeaks as he opens it and he winces at the sound, but what he discovers behind it is worse than he ever could have imagined. 

For there, on the floor, holding his guitar, is his best friend. His back is to the door and apparently Hunk didn’t hear the door opening, or just didn’t care, because his voice never wavers with embarrassment, only emotion. 

_ All I want is nothing more _

_ To hear you knocking at my door _

_ 'Cause if I could see your face once more _

_ I could die a happy man I'm sure _

His back is bent over the instrument as if he’s falling in on himself, caving in on his own hollow chest, and his hair hangs around his face in strings. There’s a fissure in Lance’s chest, opening with every second because here’s this kind, strong man who loves a girl with the wind underneath her feet and the songs of the gods on her tongue who was -  _ is _ \- broken by the very thing he held -  _ holds _ \- dearest.

_ But if you loved me _

_ Why'd you leave me? _

With every second he stands there - chest gaping open for his best friend who’s falling down this pit of despair he’s spiraling - he finds himself growing angrier and angrier at the girl with the spring-fed eyes and flowered ink underneath her glowing skin.

_ All I want is, _

_ And all I need is _

Lance places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, curling around his warmth and Hunk  _ breaks _ . He slips through his fingertips, a creek, like grasping water. He’s doomed to watch as the man who cheers for him when he least expects it, always tells him there are second chances and to see the best in people crumbles like old brick and rusted, twisted metal.

_ To find somebody. _

_ I'll find somebody  _ **_like you._ **

The strumming fades into oblivion by shaking fingertips and there’s silence; suffocating, a hand around his neck. When he sits and tilts his head back, watching the same stars as his best friend, the overwhelming sense of heartbreak and hatred and  _ despair _ threatens to asphyxiate him faster than any palm.

“I told her she was my Pyxis.”

Lance startles, looking over at his best friend but Hunk’s watery eyes are trained firmly on the sky above. Swallowing loudly to beat down the tears, the room falls back into silence. After a moment, Lance scoots closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The silence that falls afterwards isn’t as suffocating as before but it still cuts deep. 

“Why wasn’t I good enough, Lance?” 

Leaning, he tries to console him, but his best friend isn’t done. “Why didn’t I see the news sooner? Why didn’t I come home that night,” Lance’s protests fall on deaf ears as Hunk digs his fingers into his arms, “why didn’t I call sooner oh _ God”,  _ he cries mournfully at the unwilling air _ ,  _  “why did I leave her a-alone when she  _ needed _ me-”

Finally, he can’t take it anymore. 

Something in him  _ snaps. _

He’s tired of his best friend falling apart over a girl who left him when he needed him the most, abandoned him without a reason, disappeared without a word, deserted in spite of his anxiety.

Who let everyone but herself fall through the cracks.

Lance McClain writes Katherine Holt out of his heart and resolute himself to never allow Tsuyoshi Garett to mourn anyone like this  _ ever _ again.

 

 

 

The first two years are the hardest.

And that’s not to say the five years until the next time the two meet again, on the street of all things, are easy, but those are the hardest. Hunk’s heart, torn open raw, doesn’t heal right; the scars are left jagged and picked at the end. 

What they all know is that the day before Katie disappeared, he was happy. And then the years after she faded from their surroundings, he wasn’t. This is the simplest explanation, and it’s what they tell themselves and each other. 

It would be too complicated to talk about the late nights the two spent battling their nightmares side-by-side only for it to be split so violently. It would be too much for them to talk about Hunk’s psychiatrist’s - a kind white-haired woman named Helen - concerned voice over the phone when it got so bad that he couldn’t leave his bed.

As with any traumatic event, the five stages of grief follow closely but their course differs. First, there’s no denial. Heartbreakingly, Tsuyoshi just nods silently when they tell him about the empty closet and excuses himself from the room. And that’s it; that’s all they get, even Lance.

His anger doesn’t make an appearance until the ending of the year, and it’s destructive; even more than his depression. He snaps and yells and drives away everyone he had come to call his family and they’re forced to watch. The vase in his living room, the one he and Katie once made on one of their dates, is the only ceramic thing in the apartment that doesn’t have cracks and nothing seems to help.

“Lance?”

Next to him, kneeled on the floor and helping his best friend pick up the pieces of the ceramic plate that found its demise by shaky hands, he hums. “Yeah?”

Tsuyoshi is looking down at his hands, cradling a jagged piece in his palms, and when he looks up, Lance’s heart breaks all over again because he’s so close to crying.

Nowadays, he always is.

“Why can’t I get over her? Helen says that everyone works through the stages differently but I,” - he sighs so deeply that his entire body sags - “feel like I’m broken. I’m going in circles; one minute I’m angry and the next I’m sad, and all the while I’m still missing her.”

Lance listens quietly, waiting for him to be done and when he is, he pulls his friend into a tight hug. It is startlingly easy to envelope Hunk in his arms, but the dark circles under his eyes and the gaunt slope of his shoulders speaks for the man’s downward spiral.

“You’re not broken, Hunk. I know how scary this can be - losing someone that you love,” his friend shakily inhales, “and how much it hurts, even after you think you should be over it but the truth is it never really goes away.”

His heartbeat is her name.

_ NymaNyma NymaNyma. _

“It’s like getting shot; the bullet hole will always be there. Even after surgery and stitches and physical therapy, you look better on the outside, but you still feel awful. Because you’ve just been shot.” 

Leaning into the hug, Hunk sniffs, trying to keep the tears back as he chuckles.

Skipping right over bargaining, he falls directly back into depression in year three. 

December of year three without Katie brings around acceptance, albeit anger. Hunk smiles, laughs, and Thea becomes a big part of helping him get past everything. By now, both twins are almost five and the trouble they manage to conjure up or find keeps their parents on their toes.

It becomes normal for Thea and Zane to be put under Lance and even Hunk’s watch simply so Takashi and Alejandra can have two hours of interrupted peace.

“Hunk?” he looks down at the little girl, snuggled into his side as they watch her favorite cartoon. Thea’s staring up at him, wide grey-blue eyes almost teary. “Where’s Katie?”

Her name no longer sends pain coursing through his veins, but just a dull ache in his chest. Along with the bruise it brings though, there’s a sudden bolt of anger and he pulls the little girl closer.

Add Katherine Alexandria Shirogane to the list of people Katherine Colleen Holt has hurt.

 

 

Kaitlynn, on the other hand, skips all the steps and goes directly into depression. Likhitha has no explanation for it, no reason why, so when Jhinook asks one night, she lowers her head.

_ Honestly? I have no clue,  _ she whispers, and that’s the last they talk of it.

Within the third year though, Kate and Jhin become friends, and he swears his heart stops every time he manages to get the girl to smile. When she laughs, he forgets how to breathe. But no matter the situation, she’ll laugh or smile and then almost realize herself.

A frown becomes more normal than a smile.

But suddenly, in the fourth year since she opened to the door to her apartment and invited him in, it all changes. She responds to his affection, recuperating it, and he’s over the moon. She’s there when he buys a bigger building for his flower shop, he’s there when she wakes up in a hospital bed. 

The bell above the door twinkles when she pushes against it, hands occupied holding twin cups of coffee from the local joint around the corner and she smiles. The shop, like always, smells like flowers and dirt, much like the man who runs it and she smothers the warmth in her chest.

“Be with you in a second!”

Instead of answering the call from the back of the shop, she smiles down at the calico cat that meows up at her and brushes up against her jeans. Setting down the styrofoam cups on the table nearest to her, she crouches and scratches the cat’s head. 

Charlotte purrs contently as she headbutts Kate’s knee before finally wandering off to lie in the window. The calico cat circles a few times before stretching out in the sunshine and promptly falling asleep. Smothering a laugh, she brushes the cat hair off her dark jeans and takes the cups off the counter before starting to explore.

Despite how many times she’s been in The Poet’s Darling, she still finds herself discovering new nooks and crannies she’s never seen before. Her boots click against the scuffed hardwood floor and she’s just bent down to sniff a pink flower when the door creaks open.

The sound of someone shuffling hurriedly while carrying something is what draws to her feet and she has to stifle a giggle when her boyfriend appears. A large ceramic pot is cradled in his arms, blocking his view of both her and his destination, and he stumbles only once before setting it down. Brushing off his hands - which are probably covered in soil - he rises from his crouch and turns, ready to greet the customer who has waited so patiently.

“Welcome to The Poet’s Darling! How can I help you tod-”

The bracelet on her wrist jingles happily as she glides across the floor to him and his smile is blinding. “I brought you coffee.”

He blinks at her owlishly behind his horn-rimmed glasses - ones that have fallen down his nose during the movement of the pot - and she giggles, setting them back as he finds the words. “That’s not all you brought, I see. Good morning, my Lady.”

“Morning nookie.”

She rests her arms on his shoulders and leans in, standing on her tippy toes to reach him, and he holds her body close. Jhin smells like ink and hope and the soil he so lovingly takes care of and she melts against him. Humming happily, she has to stop herself from smiling too widely to break the kiss and in that moment, it happens.

A pink dress, dark skin, a white smile.

She freezes, stiffening against him and she can sense when Jhinook senses it. Cautiously, he pulls back and his eyes flicker open in confusion and worry. “Katie?”

But that just makes it worse and she’s trapped, back in a night that she’s wished over and over she could forget but is cursed to remember. Her name, one whispered so reverently by the man with sunshine in his eyes, is not the same and Jhinook has never called her that.

_ Katie  _ is a name she left behind, along with the man she still loves.

His hands grip her arms and his eyes - so blue, so dark, so trusting - search hers, and while his mouth moves, her ears are plugged. The floorboards are beneath her knees, a dull throbbing as the waves pound against her mind and she clutches at her head.

Unnerved, Jhinook flits around the shop, bringing flowers and trinkets to ground her with smells and touch, and slowly, Kate finds herself. But when she finally returns from the recesses of her own mind, she finds herself shaking and surrounded by his scent.

Sunlight, salt and fresh dirt reaches her nose and she inhales it gladly as he brings her head to his chest and she’s lulled into peacefulness by the steady beat. 

_ Bump bump. _

She finds her voice, and although it’s scratchy and low, it’s enough.

_ Bump bump. _

She has to tell him.

_ Bump bump. _

Everything.

_ Bump bump. _

Inhaling shakily, she gathers her courage. “I need to tell you something.”

Jhinook pulls her closer and firmer to his body, and his voice never wavers. “Anything.”

“I lied to you.” Above her, he inhales sharply but she plows through, determined to tell him everything and to not back out. “My name isn’t Kaitlynn Holdt. It isn’t even Kate. My name is Katherine Holt and I’m from a small town in Ireland…”

Outside, the sun sets but they stay right where they are, wrapped in each other’s arms and shielded from a world that wants her dead.

 

 

 

There’s an wine glass on the counter, rim wet with liquid courage that gives her strength. 

Jhin is facing towards her on the tiny couch in her living room and his eyes flit around the room as she shifts uneasily. She knows he’s seeing everything in a different light and her shoulders slump sadly because she can’t justify herself.

She can justify lying to her family. She can defend her running, explain her radio silence, vindicate her motivations and reasons. 

Kate - Katherine - however, can’t excuse  _ this. _

Her glass sits empty and while she’s only drank one, he’s had two and shows no sign of stopping. She understands, and it hurts.

Essentially, she’s lied to him. She’s fabricated a life that isn’t hers and a person she isn’t and never will be, however hard she tries. Of course, like the infuriatingly kind and understanding person he is, he nods and listens to her story. 

Of course, she sees the hurt in his eyes, the underlying betrayal of being lied to for so long, especially by someone he so deeply cares for.

_ Cared _ for.

The apartment is quiet, air thick, and her throat is closed. She tells him of the little girl whose brother and father went missing. She tells him of the harsh words and motorcycle in the rain. She tells him of the kind, black-haired brothers that nursed her back to health and let her stay. She tells him of the motor shop and the flat above, of the ones she loved -  _ loves -  _ there.

She tells him everything.  

The apartment is quiet, air thick, and her throat is closed. She has no words, and neither does he.

“Was any of it real, Kate?”

Jhinook is looking at the wall to her right, hands fisted in his lap, back stiff. In all the years she’s known him, he’s never sat up straight, always preferring to slouch, joking it was his natural habitat.

She opens her mouth, searching for the words, but there are none. She expects him to demand something more, something better that explains why she did what she did. 

She does not expect this.

“Did you ever care for me? All those times you laughed at my joke or pulled me in for a kiss or swore you loved me - was any of it real?” His voice is cracked, raw, bleeding, and she’s fighting a raging sea.

She could handle yelling, could handle fighting fire with fire but in her heart, she knows this isn’t him, this isn’t the Jhinook she knows and loves. He’s not the type to scream, to roar in anger and shake his first.

No, this is so much worse.

So she takes his shaking hands in her own, tries to ignore the ache in her heart at the sharp inhalation of breath he takes at the touch. She ignores the fleeting though that when she took his hands last night and put them on her skin, he had gasped for a different reason.

“It was wrong of me to lie to you, and for that I’m truly sorry. I know how it feels to be deceived, to be let down and betrayed and I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I was,” her voice wavers, “ _ scared.” _

“I’ve been running all my life, escaping what I think I can’t fix, and it’s only caused heartache. So I will understand if you walk through that door and don’t look back. I’ll leave you and your sister alone, I’ll move. I’ll erase every part of myself from your life because you deserve someone that loves you the way I once was.”

Dimly, she realizes her hands are cupping Jhinook’s cheeks and the water running down his face is dripping onto her face. She feels her own tears carving through her cheekbones and across dry lips and there’s salt on her tongue.

Silence.

“I don’t hate you, Kate - Katherine. I don’t think I ever could - even if I tried. I'll always love you."

She sobs, grabs onto his shoulders, and they embrace. His fingers are vices in her back and he buries his face in the spot between her shoulder and neck, the slope of skin that bears the night before.

"I'll always love you too, Jhin."

 

 

 

The street is wide, pavement wet with the rain from the night before, and he wanders. Despite the overwhelming amount of people milling about, he goes with the crowd instead of against it and finds himself marveling at the crooked street signs.

He sees ginger hair and his heart jumps, but he ignores it. In every city he’s been to, he sees  _ her _ in the windows of apartments and on street corners hailing a cab and stumbling on the sidewalk, drunk with friends.

The first few times, when he abandoned whatever he was doing and simply  _ ran,  _ he was reminded of how fragile his heart was.  _ How many times can he take this _ , he wonders, the eleventh time he stops a short woman with ginger hair on the street,  _ before he breaks? _

On the next street over, he hears the beeping of horns and screeching of tires but focuses on the laughter and hustle and bustle of the Pedestrian zone. The obviously-worn street fronts of little businesses along the zone give the city a homey feeling and he breathes in the scent of freshly baked bread and sunshine.

It’s a beautiful spring day and all the shops’ doors and windows are open so he can smell and hear the sound from inside each one. With so many small business all jammed together, it should be overwhelming but it creates a song that blends perfectly with the sun peeking through treetops in the grassy sections and the hum of bees.

Spring air in Trelleborg, Sweden, he finds, is perfect. The air is warm, brightened with the sun that shines happily, and the wind, while carrying a hint of the still-lingering winter, compliments it perfectly. He strolls down the street, tasting bits of bread and trying out homemade lotions from the shops that have set up tables outside, luring tourists in with calls of free samples.

Before he knows it, he’s no longer in the Pedestrian zone but on the street. Cars of all different shapes and colors and sizes roll by, windows rolled down and as he walks, he hears snippets of different songs and genres.

All in all, a perfect day.

He’s just looking up at the clear sky, smile spreading over his face when his foot catches on a step jutting from the side of a building and he stumbles. His arms wheel as he tries to catch himself and right before he thinks he’s going to fall, a woman’s voice floats over.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

His right foot throbbing, he turns around, polite smile on his face to say  _ yes, yes he is _ when he freezes.

He’s seen  _ her _ in every face, every city, every smile. He’s seen  _ her _ in the bottom of glasses being tilted back in a seedy bar. He’s seen  _ her  _ in the flurry of startled birds and in the laughter of a girl across the street with a messy french braid.

He’s seen  _ her _ everywhere.

A fissure in his chest that once sat scarred, healed, scabbed over, is opening. It’s ripping open and stitching itself back together with string of light blonde and a needle of black ink. A tattoo he’s never seen before wraps around her wrist, curls around her pinky finger. There’s a barred needle in her right hand, one that’s shaking and her Gaelic symbol, the one on her inner forearm, looks fresh.

Her ginger hair, once glowing strawberry in the sunlight that day at the beach is a pale blonde streaked with brunette and the top is pulled into a bun that’s obviously disheveled. The loose waves frame her face like a picture, like a carving in marble that he worships.

Around her neck is a gold locket that dips under her shirt.

The same one that Keith and Takashi got in the mail five years ago.

The same one that’s hanging around his own neck except his knocks against a ring on the same chain.

The metal burns his skin with what could have been and might still be.

She’s wearing an olive shirt that’s falling off her shoulder and the neckline reveals the top of her lacy bralette. Her light-wash jeans are patterned with rips and are rolled up to her middle calf and she stands tall in heeled boots.

Something’s off though, and she follows his gaze down to her leg -  _ oh. _

He sees it now. It’s well hidden, the same shape as the rest of her leg and the right one, but the coloring is a little too orange and the skin a little too airbrushed, too perfect. He knew her legs, the scars from shaving and freckles that dot her skin.

There’s no freckles on her left leg’s calf.

He chokes back tears, mind racing with images and scenarios that could have brought this upon her. He imagines her, laying alone in a hospital bed miles from home and he can’t  _ breathe,  _ can’t  _ think  _ because in the years he broke down and built himself back together brick by brick, he still had people there for him.

Was someone by her side, holding her hand when the nights got long? Was someone cheering her on when she stood on her own and took that first shaky step?

When he’s finally able to look her in the eye again, he sees she’s also crying. There’s mascara under her eyes, a shimmery brown on her eyelids when she blinks slow, dazed, and he watches her lips part but he doesn’t hear a thing.

She doesn’t hear a thing.

His throat is dry, parched, and he swallows once, twice, licking his lips and pulling the next words from his very being.

_ “Katie?” _

The woman’s shoulders slump forward as she breathes out and her barred needle hits the sidewalk in the same second she’s in his arms, laughing, crying, the same as he. That place in his heart, the one so empty and aching, is filled as his arms grow familiar to her weight again.

She’s thinner, leaner, but her eyes are still the same.

Forehead against his, she laughs as clear at the sky and he revels in the sound. In the coming minutes, he’ll yell and she’ll scream in retaliation. In the coming hours, he’ll gasp and she’ll moan in response. In the coming days, she’ll cry and he’ll sob in reaction.

But for now, he’s content to hold Katherine Colleen Holt in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry it took this long to publish the second part - i thought the way i had originally planned on ending this was enough but when i went back and reread, it wasn't. it wasn't enough for me or for you guys, so i took some time and made some HUGE changes.
> 
> i realized as well that this fic was my baby, four months in the making and that i wasn't quite ready to let it go. so maybe i held onto it for longer than i should have because despite being relieved it's all published and done with (except for the deleted scenes that'll be published later on, including the entire shallura wedding scene that sadly had to be cut), i still had some strings attached to this.
> 
> thank you guys so so SO much for coming on this journey with me. in november, this was just an idea i had while listening to galway girl by ed sheeran and it quickly spiraled out of control. 
> 
> shoutout to my betas, [thespeckofstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespeckofstardust) and [catastrxphique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrxphique) and the three who commented. EE2000, Justanotherheart, Soop? you guys are the real mvps here.
> 
> finally, (and once again) a huge and warm thank you to hidge-resources for [this beautiful piece of art](https://hidge-resource.tumblr.com/post/171153510326/she-remembers-how-breathtaking-she-thought) that brought this story to life.
> 
> after i post the few deleted scenes and possibly an alternate ending or extended ending scene, i think i'm going to take a break from voltron and try out my hand at some other fandoms. so stick around!
> 
> i love y'all so much and thank you for coming on this rollercoaster of emotions with me. see you on the flipside!

**Author's Note:**

> ¿eres tonto o…? - are you stupid or...?  
> idioto, un hombre estúpido, estúpido con una boca estúpida y estúpida - idiot, a stupid, stupid man with a stupid, stupid mouth


End file.
